Sweet Trap
by Minosuke Ichigo
Summary: Alfred and Ivan are not happy when they're forced to room together, as heroes and "villians" can't coexist in the same tiny dorm room. But sometimes it takes a moment of weakness to make an enemy a friend or maybe more. Ivan/Alfred.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:** I, NOR BLAKE BISHOP, OWN HETALIA OR ITS CHARACTERS!

**A/N – **Woohoo! First things first, I'm not dead. Second thing, I would very much like to thank my co-writer Blake Bishop for putting up with my oddness and for writing for a wonderful Ivan. The format of the story is in RP style, so it has alternating POVs and slightly different styles of writing since I wrote for Alfred (who I apologize for ahead of time for being slightly out of character) and Blake Bishop (a great and talented Hetalia fic writer…read _Russian Radio_!) wrote for our beloved Ivan…and translated his Russian for all of us non-Russian speakers.

A couple more things to make note of: One, this is an Ivan/Alfred fic, which means yaoi/shonen-ai ahead! Two, this takes place in a dorm college. And three, Alfred does NOT have his glasses...yet. That's important people!

Well, time for my usual warnings

THIS STORY IS RATED "T" FOR:

Language, violence, Gilbert being an awesome asshole, and shonen-ai.

Well, the rating may go up later, depending on whatever happens (chances are, it'll just go up for Gilbert's potty mouth and violence). Well, for now, enjoy the story and make sure to read and review! Oh, and again: read _Russian Radio_! It's awesome.

Oh yeah. And the title is actually the title of a Vocaloid song that has nothing to do with the story plot itself. We just liked the title. Heh. Anyway, next time, you might hear from Blake-chan.

Anyway, enjoy!

**Sweet Trap**

By:

_Blake Bishopp_

_&_

_-Minosuke Ichigo-_

**Chapter One**

Alfred F. Jones was the epitome of not happy at the moment. Yes, he understood that Kiku liked his quiet time, but did he have to go to the headmaster of school to get Alfred put in another room? So what if Alfred liked to listen to the radio at the late hours of the night, and so what if he crawled into bed with Kiku after watching a scary movie? It was all for the sake of heroics! Well, maybe not the radio part. That was only because he was bored out of his mind and the crickets outside of his (now Kiku's) dorm drove him insane.

"Really? I was in that room first…" He mumbled, giving Kiku his best puppy look. Matthew was better at it since he had the teddy bear and big glasses that added onto the cute factor, but that didn't stop Alfred from trying anyway. Kiku had, at least, been kind enough to help Alfred carry his belongings to his new room.

Kiku gave him a deadpanned look. "I get that look from Yong Soo too often, Alfred-san. I believe I have become immune." Alfred swore under his breath. Kiku smiled a bit. "But you get points for trying."

Alfred snorted, not pleased with the smaller male's reply. Heroes "did," not "tried!" Shaking his head, he looked at the door that seemed almost foreboding in some weird way. In all of his days at Gakutalia, he had never seen a door that practically radiated villainous waves of evil. Or maybe that was just the broken AC that was pumping out too much cold air. Either way, the American was convinced that whatever laid beyond the icy door was evil, plain and simple.

He kept his eyes on the door and nudged Kiku. "Uh…am I the only one that thinks this room's creepy and I haven't even looked in it yet?"

Kiku was silent for a minute. "…Yes. You did watch the Ring last night, after all." Even he couldn't avoid adding, in as playful a tone as he could muster, "However, I suppose you could be sensing those that had died in the room…those sensitive to such things are often victimized, Alfred-san. Please sleep safely tonight." With that ominous warning, he left, leaving a trembling and terrified Alfred behind.

"W-w-wait! Kiku! D-don't leave me here all alone!" Alfred pleaded, but his friend (one of few) was already gone. Shaking from both fear and cold, he looked back at the door. Oh, this was evil. Evil and wrong.

_Calm down, Alfred! You're a hero! Just open the door…Yup. Opening the door…now._ When his shaking body didn't respond to his thoughts, he scowled. Oh, he hated being afraid of ghosts, but honestly! How could he _not_ be afraid of something that he couldn't touch? At least the crazy guy in the alien suit that used to break into the school was touchable!

Shaking his head, he steeled his nerves and fished out the key he had been given by Kiku at the ungodly hour of noon. It was Saturday. He was supposed to be in bed still, but no. He was standing in a stupidly cold hallway outside of a stupidly creepy dorm room with all of his stuff piled in two boxes – how Kiku managed it, he wasn't certain – at his feet. And he was shaking like a leaf. Eventually, when he realized that it was going to be impossible to put the damn key into the lock, he just pounded his fist against the door while whimpering, "I'm not afraid of ghosts, I'm not afraid of ghosts…" This mantra was repeated several times as he rubbed his arms through the material of his bomber jacket.

_Why the hell hasn't anyone fixed this damn AC yet?! It's not that freaking hot outside!_ He thought bitterly, gritting his teeth and beating on the door again. _I think my ears are gonna fall off…_

[---]

Ivan Braginski sat on his bed and sulked. He was feeling an odd mixture of emotions, some of which included annoyed and offended and even slightly disappointed.

He already missed Toris. Well, actually he missed a good portion of his past roommates, but Toris was his favorite. The brunet had always been his favorite. But for some strange reason, Toris had asked to be moved to a new room. According to the headmaster, "any room that's at least half a mile away, even if it's infested by starving hounds" was what the brunet had requested word for word.

Ivan sighed and moodily glared at the poor unsuspecting wall across from him. Was he really _that_ bad that someone would choose _starving hounds_ over him? He glanced at his suspiciously red-stained water pipe that leaned against his bed and at the various empty vodka bottles that where scattered haphazardly around the room and decided that he might be _slightly_ intimating. But looks were usually deceiving and Ivan was a really nice guy deep down. Deep, _deep_ down.

The Russian sighed again and decided to look at the silver lining of his situation. Sure, Toris may be in a different room, but Ivan would still get to see him around the campus. Especially if he decided to follow the brunet around. And Ivan would be getting a new roommate soon, according to the headmaster. This meant he'd get a new friend! Or at least someone he could torment for a while until the unlucky sap got the hell out of dodge. Ivan smiled to himself when he realized that he'd torment whoever walked through that door, even if they did earn "friend" status. Perhaps this is why he can't keep any roommates...

Suddenly, there was a knocking on the door. Ivan glanced at the door and gave it a inquisitive look. He couldn't think of anyone who'd actually _want_ to visit him and his new roommate would have a key. For a fleetingly hopeful moment, Ivan considered that maybe Toris had come back to him. Then the knocking continued obnoxiously and Ivan gave the door an annoyed look. He was going to answered the damn thing when he was good and ready to!

Ivan unlocked the door and peeked out into the hallway. Sadly, there was no sign of Toris. Only some shivering blond that _wasn't_ Toris. The Russian guessed that the blond was his new roommate and gave him a once-over. Golden hair, sky blue eyes, and a strange air of optimism and childishness seemed to radiate off him. Ivan suddenly wanted to punch the blond right in the face very badly.

For some reason that Ivan couldn't explain, he absolutely _hated_ the shorter blond and all his...sunniness. The only reason that Ivan held back was the curious fact that the sunny blond was shivering and that brought waves of sick pleasure to the Russian. If he kept that up, Ivan would probably end up liking him as much as he liked Toris.

Ivan smiled warmly at the blond, which made him look like a psycho killer about to strike. Not that Ivan minded, since it usually brought more discomfort to those around him. "Hello there. My name's Ivan Braginski. You are my new roommate, da?" He asked, sounding quite childish. But luckily, Ivan did that on purpose. It seemed to bother people for some reason and if there was one thing that the Russian lived for, it was to make everyone around him as uncomfortable as possible.

Ivan moved away from the door as to let the blond in. He continued to smile "warmly" at his new roommate. "Ah? What's wrong? You look uncomfortable, comrade," he said, sounding more amused than concerned. Which he was. Ivan hoped that this one was at least fun to pick on.

Alfred gave Ivan a look that was a cross between confused and grateful, but it was quickly changed to annoyance when Ivan opened his mouth. How could someone so freakishly _tall_ sound so childish and keep a straight face? "Uh, yeah. The name's Alfred F. Jones!" He tried to sound cheerful, but only succeeded in shivering more from the cold and the waves of creepiness that practically radiated off of the tall, _tall_ Russian in front of him.

He grabbed up his two boxes and shuffled inside, glancing around the room to check for traps or evil minions. Seeing only vodka bottles – _How the hell did a minor get a hold of vodka?!_ – and a faucet pipe with red stains on it, he relaxed slightly, only to tense when he actually noticed the strange red stains on the pipe. _Oh shit! P-people _have_ died in here! And this psycho's the one that did it! I knew it! _Suppressing the urge to throw his things at Ivan and bring the obvious villain to justice, he hurried to the unclaimed part of the room and tossed his boxes onto the bed. He eyed the pipe a bit more, gritting his teeth.

Alfred glanced back at Ivan, then the pipe, trying to judge just how quickly the Russian could get to it if things got dirty. "So…your roommate got sick of you too?" He continued to watch the pipe as if expecting it to jump at him. Jokingly, he asked, grinning at Ivan and finally tearing his gaze away from the dangerous weapon, "Or did you kill 'im or something?" Oh, he was going to regret that question, he just knew it the moment the words left his mouth. He shoved his hands into his coat's pockets, trying and succeeding in looking relaxed and generally happy. _Chill out, Alfred. After all, you're a hero! There's no freakin' way some commie's gonna be able to kill me. _Reassured by his inward prep-talk, he nudged one of the vodka bottles with the toe of his sneaker, keeping his eyes on Ivan's. _Besides, he's probably just tryin' to freak you out! Just stay cool and strong!_ He grinned brightly, confidence effectively boosted back to normal levels.

Ivan watched the blond, this _Alfred F. Jones_, as he introduced himself to the room he and Ivan would be sharing. Ivan noted that Alfred had spotted his dear water pipe and he had to keep from laughing. Many of his past roommates hadn't been too keen to room with him after they found that. And sometimes the vodka scared people away too, but usually it was the pipe. It seemed like Alfred was a bit perturbed, in fact. How amusing.

However, Ivan was not nearly as amused by the blonde's question. It wasn't that Toris was _sick_ of Ivan. The brunet just needed some time away, what with his unusually high stress levels. And Ivan most certainly did _not_ kill his dear Toris. ...Although he did almost kill that one guy once, but wasn't Toris and it didn't really matter. Besides, who was Alfred to ask such questions? The only thing that stopped Ivan from getting violent was the fact that Alfred, at the very least, _acted_ like he wasn't trying to offend Ivan. Maybe he was just really stupid and couldn't help the dumb coming from his mouth.

The Russian gave Alfred an annoyed smile and chuckled hollowly. "Nyet, I didn't ..._kill_ my last roommate," he informed easily, emphasizing 'kill' as if he'd actually done something else unspeakable to Toris. Which he hadn't done anything to the brunet. Unless stalking counted as unspeakable, which Ivan decided that it didn't.

Ivan slowly started to circle Alfred and watched the blond closely for any signs of discomfort. Most of his past roommates would show signs of nervousness about now, and since Alfred wasn't...Ivan had to fix that. And what better way to cause concern than making it seem like an attack was on the way? The Russian laughed slightly at his own sadistic thoughts. "I have a feeling we will get along marvelously, friend Alfred," he said, keeping his voice as childish as possible.

"I hope so. I mean, it's no fun rooming with someone if you can't get along with 'um…" Alfred was stretching his limits now, wanting nothing more than to just punch Ivan in his smiling face. Something about the tall, tall, _tall_ Russian just made him feel all sorts of violent urges that he had never actually felt before. And even worse was there was a tiny bit of awe and excitement in the mix of violent emotions. Gritting his teeth and trying to keep his cool, he kept his grin in place, but it was obvious from the determined gleam in his eyes that he wasn't all that scared with the situation. Just…irritated. And maybe a little freaked out that there could be ghosts around.

_G-gya…don't think about ghosts right now! He'll think I'm afraid of _him_! And then he's won!_ He shook his head and put a hand on Ivan's chest in an effort to stop the Russian's shark-like circling because that…was just scary. Especially since the Russian – despite his child-like tone of voice and smile – was freakishly tall and built like a brick wall. He shuddered at the mental image of Ivan eating his head and said in a voice that was weaker than he had intended, "All right. Lets make some stuff clear. Obviously this is one of those alpha dog things where you try to get me to tuck my tail between my legs and submit to your supposed awesomeness. Not happening, because I am a hero! And heroes don't back down, even when the odds are against them!" He removed his hand from Ivan's chest, trying not to think about how toned Ivan was, as that would result in even worse images of Alfred being broken in half or smashed head-first into the floor.

_All right, that _so_ sounded better in my head. And why the hell is my voice shaking? Oh, right…it's cold, and there could be _ghosts_ here…_He thought bitterly, still shaking from the cold air that blasted into the room from under the door. Combine that with the fact that he was officially convinced that the room was haunted by Ivan's victims, and you got one scared looking teenager that was just trying to act tough. Despite this, he retained eye contact with Ivan, squared his shoulders, and showed no sign of giving into the fear in his eyes.

Ivan was torn between being highly annoyed with Alfred and being highly amused. He didn't like that the blond ended his circling (it was so fun to do, after all), but he wasn't quite sure why he was amused. ...Maybe because his new roommate actually had the guts to stand up to him? That was probably it. That or Alfred's ridiculous idea that Ivan was trying to establish dominance (which was true) and that his being a "hero" would hinder Ivan in any way, shape, or form. Which it wouldn't. Especially with Alfred's _almost_ unnoticeable shaking, which just proved that the blond was at least slightly affected by Ivan.

The Russian laughed and ruffled up Alfred's hair. "Is that so? Well, I'm a little hurt you'd think so badly of me already, friend Alfred." Ivan smiled in a way that said that he wasn't really upset about Alfred's (correct) accusation. He walked back to his own bed and plopped down gracelessly. "Well, I hope I can prove to you that I am not so bad. Otherwise, I fear you won't properly _enjoy_ your time with me," he said, a slightly creepy tone tinting his words.

Alfred grunted a bit in dismay when his hair was ruffled by Ivan's large hand, swatting at the offending limb uselessly. "I'm not a dog…" He grumbled, sitting on his own bed and staring at Ivan as if he were waiting for some kind of attack. Which, truthfully, he was. When none came, he finally risked speaking. "Well, uh…yeah, don't ever say 'enjoy' like that ever again. I think I might just hit you next time…" He obviously meant no harm at his words, as his voice had a joking tone in it, but there was also a hint of truth in it. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away and at the wall.

Ivan really didn't seem _too_ bad now that they were just sitting there talking. Besides, Ivan had the power to kick him out of the room, and who knew what sort of room mate he would be stuck with next time. _It could be Yong Soo…stupid copy-right infringement delusional bastard._ He shuddered at the idea of being groped (again) by the insane Korean that seemed to believe that his brothers had breasts. He grinned at Ivan. _Make with the friendly talk!_

"So…whaddoya do for fun, Ivan?" He kicked his feet lazily, hands on either side of his hips. He tilted his head to the side a bit, looking rather puppy-like as he added, "Other than drinking and doing questionable things with that pipe." Honestly, he really didn't like that pipe and just wished it would disappear.

Ivan silently raised an eyebrow and tried to imagine Alfred hitting him. He doubted that the blond would be able to cause even _slight_ harm to him, but then again Ivan could be proven wrong. After all, Alfred seemed to have, at the very least, a strong personality. Who's to say he didn't have a strong body to match? Ivan smiled to himself with the sudden mental image of Alfred throwing full-grown bulls around for fun. As if _that_ could ever happen.

Ivan chuckled at Alfred's question. "'Other than'? My, you've just eliminated most of my fun with that." The Russian hummed in thought and put his finger to his chin in a 'thinking' position. "Let's see...Well, I enjoy playing hockey, it really is a lovely sport, especially when someone gets beaten up. Also, I like to do things that remind me of home," he said, actually making a _real_ smile. Not that he'd admit that he had shown any symptom of normality in front of his new roommate. Deciding to balance out for his previous statement, Ivan's voice turned more innocent that it just had been and a slight shadow covered his face, "I also enjoy following around my roommate, but don't worry friend Alfred. I still follow around my ex-roommate, Toris, so you are safe, da?"

Oh yeah, THAT didn't scream serial killer in the making. Alfred, thankfully, resisted the urge to laugh nervously and tell Ivan just how insane he sounded. Instead, he said, "Hockey, huh? Matty plays that a lot. Maybe you've played against him?" _I hope not._ He added mentally, grinning in an effort to cover up his discomfort. "Stalking…uh, I think that's illegal." Was all he had to say on the matter of Ivan's second idea of fun. He had, officially, decided to ignore any and all comments related to the pipe. The drinking, hell, he did that sometimes. Obviously not as much as Ivan, though.

He watched the smile – a real one, not the creepy one it had suddenly changed to – cross Ivan's face and suddenly felt a twinge of…he wasn't sure what it was or even if he liked it or not. _Okee, uh, probably just because that's the first _human_ thing he's done. Yeah, that's it._ Shaking his head, Alfred decided to press on the human subject of home. "Home, huh? So…what's Russia like anyway? Lots of soups and snow, right?" Yes, even he knew that was many levels of "lame" but he was at a loss. How did one go about trying to get along with someone that would probably murder puppies while singing "London Bridge Was Falling Down?" Probably not the way he was going about it, but Alfred was not known for tact or even intelligent thought on most days.

Ivan furrowed his brows slightly in concentration. Did he know anyone by the name of 'Matty'? ...He couldn't recall. And he didn't even bother replying to the rude 'stalker' comment. He was _not_ a stalker. He just cared for Toris _very deeply_. And before Toris was Raivis, and before Raivis was Eduard, and before him was Tino, and there were a few others he liked enough to _follow_ (not stalk), but that was another story entirely. _Besides, all the fun things seem to be illegal nowadays._

The Russian tilted his head and smiled at Alfred, trying to not to laugh at 'soups and snow'. He sincerely hoped that _soups _and _snow_ wasn't the first thing that came to mind when normal people thought about Russia. "Da, there's several popular soups and it _does_ happen to snow quite a bit, depending on where you're at during what month. The more urban areas are more fast paced will the country is more relaxed, like most places in the world, and places like St. Petersburg and Moscow are quite beautiful. Oh, and as amazing as this may seem to you, there's actually friendly people who live there," he said with a slight chuckle and he mentally added, _I happen to not be one of them._

"So what's it like where you come from? Probably lots of fast food, I'm sure," Ivan said jokingly, but not really.

Alfred seemed to actually be…interested. He leaned forward a bit to catch every detail that Ivan was saying, and Alfred felt amazed at how normal Russia seemed. Truthfully, about the only things that he was actually interested in were piloting and other cultures. And archeology, but the former two were his absolute favorites…seconded only by movie making anyway. _Maybe I could make a movie about this guy…I dunno if people would wanna watch a film about a serial killer, but maybe._ He managed to, thankfully, keep his thoughts to himself.

"My home? Well, for one thing, this is America, so you probably know about the basic stuff already." His expression seemed nostalgic, sad even. He missed his hometown, but because of some idiot that actually wasn't him, he was stuck in the school without a home to go to during the summer and winter months. Matthew and Arthur always let him stay with them, but he always felt like he was inconveniencing them…He shook his head to get rid of the troubling memories of home. _Maybe talking about our "homes" wasn't such a good idea after all._ "But, yeah…America's awesome, right? But I bet you probably can't wait to go back home. Home's where the heart is, after all!" He laughed, attempting to cover up the long and awkward silence that had fallen over him moments before.

He shifted, setting his boxes on the floor so he could lay down. "Uh, listen, I'm gonna catch some Z's. Moving's always a hassle…" He flopped down against the mattress, staring at the ceiling. He gave Ivan a grin before rolling so his back was to him. "'Night, Ivan."

Ivan raised an eyebrow, trying to understand why Alfred seemed downhearted. He was already in America, so why was he sad that he was just in a different part of America? It's not like he was in an entirely different country or anything. But then again, he could have from, like, Alaska or somewhere far off like that (though Ivan was doubtful that Alfred was actually from _Alaska_). The Russian decided not to mention how he was, in a way, happy to not be in Russia. He was almost one hundred percent positive that his darling little sister, Natalia, was trekking all over Russia looking for him so they could be _married because I love you so much brother._ Ivan mentally cringed and prayed she never realized that he had escaped to America.

The Russian mumbled a goodnight and gave the American a curious look. Alfred was certainly quite brave (or really stupid), since _no one_ had ever just turned their backs to him and fallen _asleep_. Most people were too afraid he'd kill them or some other horrific thing, so it felt a little..._odd_. Ivan watched the blond sleep for a bit and idly wondered how long it would take for _this_ one to run away. Not that it mattered. Ivan wouldn't be too upset if Alfred left now. He still had Toris after all.

Ivan huffed and glanced around the room. _Maybe I should clean up..._ The Russian spotted a vodka bottle that wasn't completely empty and he picked it up. He laid back on his bed and took a swig. _Or maybe not._


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N-**__ Howdy! Blake Bishop here for chapter two! I don't really have much to say other than thank you to all of you who read/reviewed/whatever y'all did. Let's see...Important note! This chapter happens about two weeks after the first one, so don't let that confuse you. Now prepared to be subjected to fluffishness and hinted __love triangles__ all over. = w=_

**Chapter Two**

Alfred groaned. He wasn't completely certain whether he hated Ivan or liked him. Sometimes Ivan could be fun to be around, and other times Alfred just wanted to punch the Russian in the face. The American sighed, slouching across his desk as the teacher rambled on about some complicated math equation that meant nothing to Alfred, and tried to figure out the answer to the question that had been bothering him for two weeks now: _Do I hate him, or do I think of him as a friend?_

Well, for one thing, Ivan had a strange and twisted sense of humor that usually disturbed Alfred to the point of just edging around him and leaving the room, but sometimes his idea of a joke was actually kind of funny. However, a drunk Ivan was not a pleasant Ivan, and Alfred just slept out in the hallway those days, not in the mood to be molested or whatever it was that Ivan did when he as drunk. All Alfred knew was that Ivan was grouchy, his accent was thick, and the air got colder.

He sighed, his head lolling to the side as he stared absently at the blackboard. Lately Ivan seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his head, and while he normally would have found it disturbing that a man was constantly on his mind, he considered this an exception. After all, Ivan could murder him in his sleep. And enjoy it.

Another sigh passed his lips, and he let his head fall to the other side, staring now at the door. Maybe he was just over-reacting…

Class ended and, just as absently as he had been staring, he began to gather up his things to escape to lunch. Lunch was his favorite class, though he wasn't sure if it actually counted as a class, but it was part of school, so he assumed it was. As he ran out the door, he slowed to a walk when he overheard a couple students, Feliks and the weird Danish guy with the tiny hat, talking quietly to each other. He edged a little closer to them, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Did you, like, hear about that ghost on the second floor?" Feliks smiled lazily at the look of dismay that crossed the Dane's face.

A chill ran up Alfred's spine and he shivered, looking around wildly. His next class was on the second floor…

"Yeah, the boy that killed himself? I heard about that…he's like the male version of Bloody Mary, right?" Was the reply, only it wasn't as enthusiastic as Feliks would have liked, as the cross-dresser gave the taller blonde a dirty look.

Now Alfred was feeling sick. If it weren't for the fact that his roommate wasn't as forgiving as Kiku had been, he would have been running to fetch him in hopes of not being alone on the second floor. Of course, walking away sounded good…but he had to know the details. _I think I'm a psychological masochist._ He thought bitterly, edging closer still. The usual thing was all he got: stand in front of the mirror with a lit candle, chant the boy's name, and he'd appear to kill you.

As a twist, Feliks added while studying a perfectly manicured nail, "But I, like, totally heard that if you're, like, in the hallway near the bathroom alone, you can hear him crying. And if you hear him, then he'll follow you until you go to sleep and haunt you for, like, ever or something. Creepy, huh?"

It wasn't scary to the normal person, but Alfred…well, Alfred was already half-way to the classroom that Ivan was probably in (all he had to do was look for the one with the students coming out of it that looked like they were on the verge of tears). He peeked into the room, trembling, and asked meekly, "Ivan? Are you in here? I, uh, just…erm…wanted to see if you…needed…protection or, or something…on the second floor…after lunch?" He was a horrible liar when he was scared, as all he did was tremble and stutter, blue eyes filled with tears and fear. He wasn't afraid of ghosts! But…if he had to be alone anywhere near the haunted bathroom, he would probably burst into tears.

[---]

Ivan smiled cheerfully, although most of the people in his class (including the teacher) were obviously uncomfortable. It made the Russian happy. People acting constantly on edge and scared around him was something that Ivan was used to, something he enjoyed dearly. The only person he knew that seemed immune to Ivan's very presence (other than his lovesick sister) was Alfred. Although, there were times that the American showed obvious discomfort. Like whenever Ivan made a dead baby joke or got piss drunk or talked about how lovely his day had been after not-stalking Toris. Though, it didn't really surprise the Russian.

Most people didn't appreciate jokes about deceased infants or really cared to hear a play-by-play on how someone else had done school work and even Toris would leave the room when Ivan was drunk. Only the brunet would go all the way to his Polish friend's room while Alfred would just sleep in the hallway. The Russian had to wonder why the blond didn't just go sleep in another friend's room. He just couldn't imagine that someone as sunny as Alfred didn't have any friends who wouldn't mind sleeping in the same room as him. Because that just seemed..._weird._ In a way that would make Ivan feel kind of sad if that happened to be the case.

Ivan's previously cheerful smile slowly turned into a slight frown and he cursed himself. That damn Alfred! Here Ivan was, trying to be a good student and listen to the teacher nervously give him complements in hopes of avoiding any of his future Russian rage, and Alfred just waltzes into his thoughts! How annoying... Stupid Alfred with his upbeat personality and crummy fast food and _Americaness._

Before Ivan knew it, his good mood had all but denigrated and the room had magically dropped several degrees. And not even the joys of the crying adolescents around him could cheer Ivan up. Luckily for the students (and the teacher), class finally ended. A good portion of them bolted out of the room as fast as humanly possible (along with the teacher) while several others walked slowly, as if Ivan would randomly attack them if they made any sudden movements. Which considering the vibes he was giving out, it wouldn't be too far fetched of an idea.

The Russian started to pack up his things when he heard an all too familiar voice and any of his previous anger towards the American disappeared. He turned around and stared at Alfred trying to understand what exactly he was seeing. Alfred looked like he was about to cry. Ivan's stomach dropped and he suddenly felt anger flare through his chest. Who would _dare_ make Alfred cry? Only Ivan was allowed to do that!

Ivan held back the urge to go punch someone in the face and smiled with false innocence. "Why would_ I_ need protection? And why would I need protection at such a _specific _time and place?" The Russian laughed childishly, although he was growing suspicious of whatever was going on after lunch. If it required him to go and beat someone senseless to defend Alfred, he wouldn't mind in the least. After all, the American was _his_ roommate and no one was just going to go around a pick on Alfred. That was _his_ job.

Alfred gave him a dirty look, trying to keep from whimpering. He didn't want to admit to being afraid of a stupid ghost story…otherwise, Ivan might just lock him in the bathroom just to terrify him. He tapped the floor with the toe of his shoe, looking away. "I mean, well, uh, you might have a bunch of enemies or something. A-as a hero, I can't let you get hurt or anything…"

Even he knew that his excuse was horrible, and he was even more transparent as he edged to hide partially behind the door. He jumped and let out a loud yelp of surprise when someone grabbed his shoulders, and he ran into the classroom in tears. He hid behind Ivan and wailed, "Don't let it get me! I don't wanna be haunted for the rest of my life!"

Gilbert couldn't believe that Alfred hadn't heard him approaching, as the albino had made no attempt to quiet his footsteps, but either way, the sight of Alfred – the most troublesome do-gooder that he knew – cowering and sobbing certainly made his day. He was laughing so hard that tears came to his own eyes as he gasped out around his laughter, "Oh shit, Alfred! I can't believe you! Seriously! Letting a little GHOST story scare you?!"

Alfred looked past Ivan's arm, glaring at Gilbert and sniffling. "Shut up, you ass!"

Gilbert snickered, leaning against Antonio's shoulder while the Spaniard gave Alfred and Ivan his most apologetic smile. "Can't believe our local 'hero' is afraid of ghosts…"

The American tensed, blushing with embarrassment. "I-I'm not scared of ghosts!" He instantly regretted those words, as Gilbert got a downright evil look in his crimson eyes as a devilish smile crossed his face. _Uh-oh._ Alfred didn't like that look, not at all. He tightened his grip on Ivan's arm, wishing he could just un-hear the ghost story from earlier…than none of this would have happened. And, despite Ivan's intimidating presence, Gilbert showed no intention of letting it go.

"Then prove it. Stay the night in the school. Go ahead an' take a friend!" Gilbert smirked and turned away, waving at Alfred from over his shoulder. "That is, if you even have _one_."

Alfred emitted a quiet whimpering noise, but tried looking as brave as he could considering he was using Ivan's desk for support now. Weakly, he yelled after Gilbert and Antonio, "Y-yeah, well…uh, I can stay here! No problem! I don't need to drag anyone else into it with me!"

Ivan mentally rolled his eyes but continued to smile at Alfred. _Obviously_ Ivan had enemies, but he somehow doubted that Alfred even really knew about that, what with the blonde's _slightly_ oblivious nature. Not only that, Alfred was acting _weird._ Before Ivan could comment on his observations, the American made a loud noise and shouted something about being haunted. And then hid behind Ivan, which made the Russian question if he was loosing his touch or if Alfred was just one of those special cases and wasn't effected by his aura like almost everyone else was.

Then he heard it. He heard the voice that dragged the Russian from his idle thoughts and made him want to cause harm to whatever was unfortunate enough to be within ten feet of him. _Gilbert_. Ivan fought to keep his face from betraying any of his inner emotions, most of which were emotions that told him he should go beat up the albino. For some reason, Ivan _detested_ Gilbert (which was putting it lightly). Probably because Gilbert had all of traits he hated about Alfred, but ten times worse and with none of the positive traits to balance it out. Plus he could be a douche, which was proven by fact that Gilbert was picking on Alfred for no good reason.

Though, listening to their conversation, Ivan was actually surprised. _Alfred is afraid of ghosts?_ The Russian supposed it was almost cute, in a weird kind of way. Except Ivan's new discovery was ruined simply because Gilbert was there and being an ass by harassing Alfred. Ivan was the _only_ one in the world who was allowed to pick on and scare Alfred, and Gilbert doing it angered him deeply.

Ivan waited until he was sure Gilbert was out of earshot and he gave the American a serious look. "You shouldn't let him bait you like that. It only encourages similar behavior in the future," he halfheartedly scolded, then sighed. Ivan noted that, strangely, Alfred crying wasn't nearly as enjoyable as he thought it'd be. It was downright heartbreaking. The Russian awkwardly patted Alfred's shoulder in best display of caring he could muster. "You don't have to go you know. You could just tell Gilbert to piss off," he said gently.

Alfred rubbed at his eyes and tried too look as brave as he could, only succeeding in shaking a bit more, this time from suppressed anger. He hated Gilbert! Well, maybe not "hate," but it was close enough to count, especially since now Ivan knew about Alfred's not-so-manly fear. He moved away from Ivan when his shoulder was patted, and looked away. "No! I've gotta do this, or else he'll just bug me for the rest of the month." He grinned at Ivan, cheeks flushed from his crying earlier. He hated to admit it, but when Ivan had tried to comfort him, it had felt…nice. Not, "big brother" or "best friend" nice, but the kind that made his stomach twist pleasantly and throat tighten.

"But to hear you say something like that…I musta looked really pathetic, huh?" He tried to ignore the butterflies dancing gaily in his stomach.

He put his hands in his pockets, kicking a desk lightly as he added, blushing, "You'll keep it a secret, right? The…the ghost thing. You won't tell anyone, will ya?" Alfred glanced at the Russian hopefully. He didn't want anyone else finding out about it, as he had more enemies than friends due to his nosy and pushy nature. It was bad enough that Ivan had found out, but at least the Russian wasn't picking on him about it, which was a relief.

He waited only a second to look Ivan in the eye after requesting his phobia be kept secret, a pleading look on his face. "I hate to ask ya this, but do you think you could stay with me tonight? I don't wanna be here all alone in a haunted building! Especially when there's a murdering ghost on the second floor!" It was a lot of work to keep from sobbing right there. Instead, he did his best to keep his expression as serious as possible…while giving Ivan the puppy eyes that he was usually bad at. However, the tears would probably help, not that he even knew that he was about ready to start sobbing again.

Ivan mentally snorted and decided that Alfred _had_ to have looked ridiculously pathetic. _Why else would I feel so concerned for him?_ But Ivan had to admit, Alfred being all embarrassed over his secret fear was slightly cute. And Ivan was pleased that he was apparently one of the few that knew one of Alfred's weaknesses, which meant perhaps he could use it against the American some day. You never know when you'll need to bend someone's will to fit your own personal wants and/or needs, after all.

Then, Ivan was assaulted by perhaps the most unfair attack he'd ever have used against him (save for the literal "hitting below the belt" attack). The look Alfred gave him could probably be considered cheating, with the eyes and the tears and the face. It made Ivan feel all..._weird_. He bit his lip and turned away. "Well, I suppose I could stay with you. I wouldn't want you to freak out and fall down the stairs or something," he informed the wall he was looking at. He faced Alfred and quickly added, "Because then I wouldn't have the honor of pushing you down myself."

Ivan smiled in his creepy childish smile, hoping that the American would buy the ruse. After all, he couldn't have Alfred realize that he was _actually_ worried about his personal health and well-being. The Russian shifted his weight and dropped his usual act, deciding that his true concerns had successfully been hidden by his remark. "So where will we stay at?" Ivan asked with a slight smile.

Alfred smiled happily when Ivan said that he would go, and blatantly ignored the creepiness of the last part of the statement. Hell, Ivan could have told him right then and there that he ate the heads off of live bats and he wouldn't have cared as long as it meant he didn't have to be alone. He gave the Russian a bear hug, lifting him off the floor as he yelled, cheek pressed against Ivan's chest, "You're the greatest guy in the world!"

He released Ivan and smiled happily, obviously no longer afraid. He gave the Russian a thoughtful look, as though he hade just realized something. He patted Ivan's chest. "Hey…you're pretty buff…I thought you were fat, but…hm? Stay…?" He blushed a bit with embarrassment and quickly removed his hands from Ivan's chest. Alfred look to the side, cheeks red, as he mumbled absently, "Well, I think maybe we shouldn't…uh, y-y-you know, stay still too long…not that I'm SCARED or anything that the ghosts…could, uh, track us down and haunt us. But maybe the, uh, gym?"

Yes, he knew that the gym was very cliché, as everyone that stayed in the school hid there, but he had a good reason! One, it was wide and open so that he could tell if someone (or something) were to try and sneak up on them. And two, it was large enough where, should he and Ivan disagree for some reason or another, they could sulk on opposite ends and they wouldn't technically be alone. Albert smiled, looking quite pleased with himself. He glanced at the clock on the wall and whistled. "We better get going, or we'll miss lunch! C'mon!" He grabbed Ivan's hand, half-dragging his roommate out the door. One did not deny Alfred food, or else the boy would be deadweight for the rest of the day.

As it was, he was already making a mental checklist of everything they would need. After all, a hero was always prepared.

Ivan felt a weird twist in his gut and he choked slightly on the air. He knew he really shouldn't be surprised that Alfred hugged him, after all Americans were supposed to be over the top with their affections and this was _Alfred_, but Ivan still managed to be surprised. Maybe because he'd just threatened to push him down stairs and he was still being hugged? That was probably it.

Alfred let go and Ivan went from being an odd mix of both relieved and disappointed to being offended. The Russian made a face at the American's words. How could anyone think he was _fat?_ Sure, he might have always worn heavy clothes and he was pretty big, but that didn't mean he was fat or anything. Alfred suggested they stay in the gym and Ivan gave a slight hum in agreement, not really caring where they'd stay. Then, the younger blond pulled the compliant Russian to the cafeteria. Not that he was really hungry or anything. American food generally sucked, so he could go a while without the urge to eat it.

When they reached the building, Ivan spotted someone who instantly made his face light up in childish joy. _Toris is here!_ He thought happily and he let go of Alfred's hand. "You go and eat, da? I will stay out here and visit an..._old friend_ of mine," he said cheerfully and gestured to the currently happy and unsuspecting brunet. _Aw, look how happy and unsuspecting he is. I have to fix that!_

Without waiting for a response, Ivan practically skipped over to the Lithuanian. "Toris!" He exclaimed and gave the brunet an affectionate (and unwanted) hug. Toris squeaked and started to tremble ever so slightly.

"I-I-Ivan! W-what are you doing here?" Toris asked, trying to force a polite smile on his face. Ivan smiled.

"I came here with my roommate, but I saw you and had to say hello," he explained with a slightly disturbing giggle.

Toris laughed along awkwardly. _His poor, poor roommate,_ Toris thought with slight pity. He could relate.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence that mostly involved Ivan staring creepily at him, Toris decided to break it, "I-I guess I'll have to your new roommate sometime?" He tried.

The Russian seemed to contemplate the idea. "Hm, well I'm sure you might get along. After all, you're so friendly towards everyone and he is too. ...You might actually become good friends." Ivan said, soundly less enthusiastic than he meant to.

Alfred wasn't sure why he felt jealousy swell up in his chest when he saw Ivan hug Toris. He didn't really have a problem with Toris, as they had been good friends for a few months before Alfred had to move to California for a couple years, but right then, he felt very…unhero-like. And very unhappy. And like his heart was breaking.

He put a hand to his chest, a puzzled look on his face. He wasn't used to these feelings, and he was even more upset when he realized he didn't like them being that close. Not that Toris even looked happy, but Ivan did, and that was enough. Shaking his head, Alfred turned away, kicking at the ground. _Maybe I'm just lonely. Yeah, that's it._ _I don't, you know, like guys…like that._

Alfred shook his head and hurried to the cafeteria, trying hard not to think about the growing rock that was settling in his stomach. Surprisingly, he only ate one cheeseburger, and was relatively quiet as he looked around the room, waiting impatiently for Ivan to get bored with bothering Toris and come and eat. It wasn't healthy, after all, to go without lunch.

To keep himself occupied, he counted people. Then the groups of people, then the dating couples, and finally, depressed by the fact that even Matthew was chatting with the weird Cuban guy that was always confusing him for Alfred, started counting the ceiling tiles.

Yup. He was perfectly happy being the only one that had no one to talk to. Aside from Arthur, and the brit was probably still pissed about the joke Alfred had made by accident. _You compare someone's eyebrows to a hamster and you're branded for life. _He thought with a grumble, slumping across the table and staring at the doorway hopefully. Of course, it hadn't helped his already rocky friendship with his older brother when Gilbert took the joke to the next level and threw a toy hamster at Arthur's face…and the toy had super glue on it. Yeah, he was certain Arthur still blamed Alfred for that one.

"…I'm seriously lame." He mumbled, putting his face against the table and lifted his head, only to let it drop against the plastic surface repeatedly with resounding "thuds." He made a startled sound when he felt someone lean against his back, and growled when he heard the annoying voice of Gilbert. Gilbert snickered, crossing his arms over his chest and looked over his shoulder at Alfred, who was giving him his best death glare. It wasn't anywhere near as intimidating as Berwald's though, so the affect was limited.

"I'm glad you admit you're lame." Gilbert chirped happily.

Alfred snorted, looking ahead of him instead of back at the grinning albino. "Go away." It wasn't often that he was grumpy, so not many people knew how to handle a pissy Alfred. Sadly, Gilbert was quite used to that tone of voice, and continued, confident he could run away fast enough considering the fact that he was leaning and Alfred was sitting.

"Nien." Was the only response the blonde got. Gilbert stretched his arms over his head and yawned, leaning further against Alfred's back. "So, lookin' forward to tonight, Al?"

"One, don't call me 'Al,' because we're not friends." Alfred ignored the noise of fake hurt that Gilbert emitted. "Two, of course I'm looking forward to it. It's just one more way I can prove your albino-ass wrong."

"Not albino!" Gilbert protested, grinding his knuckles against Alfred's head and only getting a whine of irritation. The albino – because, no matter how he protested, he was an albino – turned to face Alfred's back, leaning over him and grinning teasingly. "'Sides. I have more details for your little sleepover later." Alfred tensed. More details meant more trouble, and more trouble meant a higher risk of being caught – by a ghost, that is. Gilbert lowered his voice to a whisper, holding up a finger to indicate each new detail, which were actually more like a series of rules. "One, you can't just sit in one place. Gotta move around, an' Antonio, Francis, an' I are gonna know. Security cameras are awesome, huh? Just like me." He held up a second finger. "Two, you have to stay _inside_ for the _entire night_. If you don't…" He looked thoughtful. "You've gotta, I dunno, praise me and stuff."

Alfred grumbled. He really hated these "rules" already, but only because he had fully intended on just hiding in the gym and not budging. And with as scared as he was of ghosts, not leaving the building was bound to be hard. "O-okay…anything else…?" Alfred inwardly cursed himself for letting his fear reach his voice.

Gilbert smiled. "Of course! Only two more, though. I'm not a rule-hog like West. Three, that's four…" he, after his moment of embarrassment for miscounting his own fingers, held up the correct number. "Three! You _have_ to do 'Bloody Mary.' In the bathroom. ALONE." Alfred tensed and almost started crying right there. He didn't want his eyes getting clawed out by some ghost! He started to shake his head, but paused when Gilbert continued. "And lastly, if you fail to do any of the above, you've gotta…hm…" He scrunched up his face in thought.

Obviously, whatever he had planned was either forgotten in his joy of tormenting Alfred or he hadn't thought about it. Antonio, who was standing behind Gilbert, figured it was the latter as he munched boredly on a tomato and contemplated how to go about asking Lovino out. Again. Fifth time was the charm, after all.

The German grinned and snapped his fingers. He draped an arm around Alfred's shoulders and said in a whisper, "You've gotta kiss Ivan. With feelin'."

Alfred's face turned as red as the tomato Antonio was now choking on due to shock, and he stared at Gilbert as if he were insane. Well…more insane than usual. At least this time he wasn't dragging him around during a thunderstorm while both carried metal rods – for fun. "W-w-what?"

Gilbert grinned. "Whaddoya mean, what? I saw you earlier. You looked like you wanted to beat the hell out of someone when he hugged Toris, and now you're sulking. So, you can either listen to all the rules I set up for you and _not_ make out with Ivan and risk losing your teeth, or I can tell the whole damn school about…your parents." The last part was whispered, and Alfred almost turned green. In fact, he was pretty sure his lunch was trying to rebel at that point. At Alfred's horrified and sick expression, Gilbert took that as his cue to back away and hope that he didn't get barfed on.

Thankfully, Alfred's lunch remained in his stomach but the urge was still there. He stared at Gilbert in horror. In his shock, he failed to notice the look of remorse that crossed the albino's face for a split second before being replaced by a cocky grin. Taking Alfred's silence as a "yes, I'll follow the rules," he turned and motioned for Antonio to follow him as he headed back to their corner table, far away from the shaking Alfred.

Antonio nudged Gilbert a bit. "Ah…amigo, I think that was a little…unnecessary?"

Gilbert snarled and dropped into his seat beside Francis, stabbing at the tray of food he had abandoned in favor of tormenting Alfred. Instead of feeling better though, he just felt worse than he did earlier. "Shut up…just, shut up. Damn him and his…weird…cuteness." He shoved a fork full of wurst into his mouth and chewed, practically radiating waves of frustration and irritation. Antonio shook his head slowly, unable to believe the number of flashbacks he was having from grade school.

"Only grade-schoolers treat their crushes like this…"

"I said shut up! And I don't have a freakin' crush on the hero dork! It'd be like dating pancake boy's evil twin! Now shut up, or I'm eating your food too!" Gilbert waved his fork menacingly at Antonio, then shot Francis a dirty look when the blonde smiled at him teasingly. "And you…say nothing. At all. Ever. Or I'll beat you with your Jacob Black stand-up." Francis' smile fell and his mouth snapped shut. Like hell he was going to let Gilbert break his things, especially when said object was a very expensive stand-up.

[---]

Ivan loomed over Toris while the brunet nervously chatted with the Russian, but Ivan's mind wasn't really on the conversation. He thought of how cute Toris could be. The brunet would tremble and stutter but never fight against Ivan, even if the Russian did something to cause him discomfort, like hugging him. Ivan idly wondered how Alfred would react to such a thing. _He'd probably punch me in the face,_ he thought with mirth.

Not that Ivan would ever try showing affection to the American. After all, everyone he had shown affection to would attempt to get as far away from him as possible. Just like Raivis and Toris. They were the only two that the Russian had liked enough to actually hug and they had basically run away from him as fast as possible. Ivan could just imagine how badly Alfred would react if he tried anything. The American wasn't nearly as meek as the other two, and Ivan guessed that Alfred would deck him _then_ leave. And Ivan really didn't want to loose another roommate, especially not one as _...unique_ as Alfred.

A jingle went off and Toris jumped in surprise. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a phone. "It's Feliks," he explained and flipped the phone open. Ivan hummed and stared off blankly into space while Toris talked to the Pole. Ivan didn't really have much of an opinion of Feliks, other than that he'd make a very pretty girl if he wanted to. Toris said a quick goodbye into the phone and looked at Ivan with poorly hidden relief. "Ah, Feliks is having a problem back at our room, so I-I have to go. I guess I'll s-see you around?" Toris said, though he sounded like that was the exact _opposite_ of what he wanted.

Ivan smiled childishly. "Of course friend Toris! See you later, da?" The Lithuanian nodded and walked away quickly, trying not to break into a run. Ivan watched him go then sighed. _Guess I better join Alfred._ The Russian headed into the cafeteria and scanned it for the younger blond. He spotted him, but instantly narrowed his eyes when he noticed a certain albino German talking to him. He watched as Gilbert walked away and he headed up to Alfred.

"_Privyet,_ Alfred," he greeted, then noticed that the American didn't look well. Ivan wasn't sure if he should blame Gilbert or the natural bio hazard of Alfred's American "food". The Russian cocked his head to the side and gave Alfred a slightly concerned frown. "You don't look well. Are you okay? ...Because if you're sick, I don't want to catch whatever you have," he explained, not wanting to sound like he cared. Which he totally didn't. He just didn't want to get swine flu or something. Yeah...

"Y-yeah…I'm…huh? Oh, yeah, uh…I'm cool…" Alfred mumbled turning away from the direction Gilbert had gone in and staring at the remains of his now-cold French fries. His stomach rumbled unpleasantly, but at least he was calming down now that Ivan was around.

"Now that Ivan was around" was…a confusing idea. It was impossible. Ivan didn't bring comfort, he brought nightmares of mass-murder and horrid onslaughts of dead baby jokes! And vodka, but Alfred didn't mind that part too much since he too had a habit of occasionally knocking back drinks…but no where near as often as Ivan.

He gave Ivan a weak and awkward smile as he stood shakily, his complexion slowly returning to normal now that he no longer felt like vomiting. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Just, damn, I think they used some new oil or somethin' for those fries…" He laughed a bit and patted Ivan's shoulder as he grabbed up his tray and still-full can of coke. "Heh! With that expression, you look worried about me!" He dumped the food into a trashcan and tossed the tray on top of it, looking mildly irritated. Like Ivan _really_ cared.

Alfred gave Ivan a thumbs up. "Lets finish school and pack up our stuff for the night, 'kay? I'm voting we get some snacks, drinks, and sweets! Maybe I'll even bring my TV and DVD player…yeah, we should be able to watch a movie or two before we start exploring for this dumb g-g-ghost…yup…" He shuddered. He really hated ghosts, and he hated the fact that Gilbert was making him do that whole "Bloody Mary" thing…_alone_! What sane person did that stuff alone? In a quieter and only slightly meeker voice, he added, "Uh…t-t-thanks for at least pretending to be worried." Blushing and flustered beyond belief, he hurried off in a panic.

_Shit! What the hell's wrong with me? He pretends to be all worried – and, uh, epic fails on that part. What kind of person pretends to be worried then says they don't want you near them? – and I get all flustered!_ He thought, ignoring the fact that he was running to his second floor classroom alone despite his obvious worries earlier. _This is some Commie mind-game, isn't it? I bet those Russians have Jedi mind powers or something!_

Ivan was actually relieved that it was just the food making Alfred sick. Though, when he really thought about it, that wasn't a very comforting thought at all. Just another reason to never touch American food. The Russian frowned slightly, not happy that his ruse had apparently been seen through. _Well, at least he doesn't seem to be too disturbed that I...sorta care._ Ivan decided that this was a good thing.

The Russian listened to Alfred's plan and smiled, not really paying much attention to the words as he was the person saying them. Other than the whole ghost aspect of their night, Alfred almost seemed sort of excited for later. _How cute._ ...And Ivan did not just think that.

He gave Alfred a surprised look. _Pretending?_ Ivan watched the American run away and wasn't quite sure what to feel. _So the reason why he wasn't upset was because he thought I was pretending? But then he runs off like Toris, except with more blushing. _Ivan decided that the blushing bit was quite cute, but he was still confused as hell. He wasn't sure if he had scared Alfred off or if he had offended the blond or what. Ivan sighed and gave the ground an annoyed look as if he wanted it to answer him or face the consequences.

When the ground didn't reply, Ivan turned around and headed for his next class. Maybe he could figure out what just happened instead of learning something.

-------**TBC**

**Ichigo's A/N –** Um…don't ask why Feliks was hanging out with Denmark. It's a convenient plot device? –lame excuse-


	3. Chapter 3

**Ichigo's A/N – **And now, folks, for the much anticipated Chapter Three of _Sweet Trap_! And Blake and I have a new friend to introduce to you, our wonderful Beta-Reader, Humulus! Thanks to her, we'll be able to cut down on errors and such!

Anyway, enjoy chapter three! ^__^ Oh, and many apologizes to people who were hoping for an 'M' rated scene here. Sorry, sorry.

**Chapter Three**

"WAAAAH! Ivan, assist me!" Alfred's shrill, rather unmanly, scream echoed in the dark hallway as the blond ran into Ivan's chest and pointed behind him at the wall his own shadow had been on. They had been in the school for less than ten minutes and already he was getting spooked. By his own shadow. Thankfully, this seemed to sink in, as well as the fact that he was _too damn close_ to Ivan, and he quickly released Ivan's coat and backed up a few steps, looking embarrassed and flustered. His cheeks were practically glowing as he said, "I, uh, was just testing you…and, uh, erm, you passed! Congrats!"

He laughed nervously, looking away and rubbing his head nervously. He was, of course, careful to avoid _that_ cowlick. He didn't need to blush any more than he already was. He gave Ivan a bright grin and a thumbs up. "All right! Now that the test is, uh, all over, lets get exploring! We've got soda, vodka, chips, and whatever else you grabbed, so we're all set!" He shivered a little, feeling a chill run up his spine. He just knew he was being watched, but no matter where he looked, he just didn't see anything! Shivering now from fear, he edged closer to Ivan, clutching his backpack straps.

"L-l-l-l-lets g-g-g-get going…u-um, gym t-t-then? T-t-to drop our s-s-s-stuff off?" He was trying, and failing, to sound brave, but he refused to move until Ivan did. The dark school was terrifying and intimidating…well, to him anyway.

Ivan rolled his eyes. He _highly_ doubted that Alfred was "testing" him, but he didn't comment. He was torn between his sadistic side, which was enjoying Alfred's obvious fear, and some other side he couldn't put a name to, which made Ivan's chest hurt to see the American in this state. It was highly annoying. _Why can't I just enjoy his misery like I would everyone else?_ Ivan couldn't think of a good answer to that.

The Russian then noticed that Alfred wasn't really moving. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He took out his handy dandy pipe from its hiding place in his heavy coat and put his arm around Alfred's shoulders. "There! Now we can start walking and if any ghosties try to come near you, I can just scare them off, da?" Ivan suggested with a childish tone. He didn't know much about ghosts but he somehow doubted he'd be able to scare any off. But Ivan supposed it was worth a shot if it made Alfred feel better.

The Russian started to pull Alfred along towards the gym. After a few minutes of walking, he realized that maybe he was becoming a bit paranoid. He'd glare menacingly at any corner that seemed too dark, grip his pipe harder at any noise that seemed out of place, and he'd periodically tighten his hold on the younger blond. _I'll blame Alfred for my sudden paranoia._ Ivan spared the American a glance then sighed. "How are you holding up Alfred?" He asked quietly.

Alfred blushed brightly when he felt a heavy arm around his shoulders, and he jumped when Ivan spoke to him. He grinned a bit, looking happy despite the fear that was still there. Even if Ivan acted a little weird sometimes, it still made strange feelings of happiness swell up in his chest when he thought that maybe Ivan cared. Not that he would ever admit that having Ivan protect _him_ made him happy. Nope. Never. Because, well, he was the hero, but he supposed, just once, he could let Ivan be the hero. Just once. He blinked a bit when he first felt Ivan tighten his grip on him, and shivered at bit at the idea that maybe he wasn't totally insane or paranoid. After all, if Ivan was glaring and gripping him (and the pipe) so tightly, then there must be something there!

He managed to keep from squeaking in surprise when Ivan spoke to him, the man's voice alone seeming to calm him down. "Y-yeah, I'm cool…you're, uh, a good sidekick…" He held the side of Ivan's shirt, looking around nervously. Honestly, _Ivan_ being jumpy wasn't helping his nerves, but he resisted the urge to ask what was wrong.

Alfred was thankful when they reached the gym, but made no attempt whatsoever to remove Ivan's arm from him. It was the only thing that kept him from bolting out the door, after all. He flashed Ivan a grin, not as scared as he had been before. "Heh…thanks for p-protecting…I mean, I was, uh, fine…but it was, uh…nice?" He blushed again, looking away and rubbing his neck. "Okay, that sounded gay and weird."

Ivan snorted at the comment. _A sidekick? Yeah, because that's _exactly_ how I would describe myself as at this very moment._ But Ivan let it slide. After all, he couldn't see the harm in letting the younger blond continue to act like he was a great and fearless hero. That and Ivan was more concerned with scaring off non-existent threats to really care, and he had no idea why he was trying to scare away the non-existent spirits. _Especially since they don't exist..._

Ivan was highly relieved when they made it to the gym, and he personally vowed to punch Gilbert in the face for inadvertently causing the Russian to go on this little "adventure". God damn albino. Ivan was brought out of his thoughts by Alfred and he raised an eyebrow at the blond. "...I suppose it did," Ivan said, "But you do not need to thank me." He gave the American a slight smile and patted his shoulder reassuringly. Ivan purposely omitted the "because that's what friends do" or some other similar line because that sounded like something a teenage girl would say, and Ivan happened to _not_ be a teenage girl.

The Russian realized that he still had his arm around Alfred but made no move to remove it. He was quite comfy how he was and Alfred didn't seem to mind very much. "So what do you want to do now?" He asked, disliking how his voice echoed.

Alfred's face practically glowed when Ivan, unexpectedly, did _not_ remove his arm. He had been expecting the Russian to stop holding him the second they entered the gym, but instead, he was pleasantly (not that he'd ever admit it) surprised. However, being a _man_ and a _hero_, he wasn't about to stand there and blush like a little girl on Valentine's Day. Nope, he was going to man up and move. Any second now…

When he failed to find the urge to do as what his brain was telling him, he snorted. "Well, I guess we walk around the school and look for the g-g-ghost. After we drop our stuff in a corner, anyway…" He, eventually, managed to duck under Ivan's arm and hurried to the corner furthest from the main doors to drop his backpack off. He shuddered. Oh, he wasn't going to like this evening. Not. At. All.

_Maybe I should just get this Bloody Mary thing outta the way…erk…but I have to do it alone…_He almost cried right there. No, he didn't want to be locked in a bath room with a mad ghost intending to scratch his eyes out and murder him. At least not without someone bigger than him that probably wasn't afraid to go against the forces of darkness. _Considering he's probably related to Beelzebub with as creepy as he can be sometimes…_He glanced back at Ivan, at that innocent smile…and then the faucet pipe with the mysterious red stains on it. He still hadn't gotten up the nerve to ask about those yet.

He straightened and grinned, turning to face Ivan as he put his hands behind his head. "Uh, I hate to say this, but…I'll be right back. I've gotta use the little boys' room." With that, he pulled a flashlight from his pocket – one of those that you have to crank a few hundred times before it even turned on – and hesitantly walked past Ivan. _I don't wanna do this alone! Grr…b-be a man, Alfred! A man! A hero! A hero does what he has to do even he's scared! Yup, a hero…_as he passed Ivan, he said, managing to look calm despite his growing anxiety, "You go ahead an' wait here. I'll be right back."

The Russian indifferently dropped his bags where he was standing. It's not like there were many people around to trip over them anyway. Ivan considered offering to accompany Alfred to the bathroom but stopped. Mainly because that would be just really _creepy_. And _not_ the creepy that Ivan liked. It was too close to the type of creepy that Natalia specialized in, and the Russian didn't want to go down that path. "Alright then. Don't get lost," he said finally.

He watched the blond leave and frowned deeply. He shouldn't be worried. It's not like ghosts even _existed_. Plus he was just going to the god damn _bathroom_, not a graveyard or something. Ivan ran his hand through his hair and glared moodily at space. _Oh what the hell ever_, he thought and dug through his bags. He pulled out a bottle of vodka with a slight sound of victory. Everything was easier to deal with if he was, at the very least, slightly buzzed. And besides, he didn't get drunk easily, so no problems there.

Ivan popped the lid and took a swig of the alcohol. He idly wondered if ghosts could get drunk.

[---]

Alfred felt like a complete idiot as he gripped the staircase railing and headed to the second floor, his legs shaking so badly that the only thing really keeping him up was his white-knuckle grip on the railing. The metal bar that worked as a hand-rail was dented in places now thanks to his superhuman strength, but at least he hadn't broken anything yet. The flashlight beam was all over the place, and he was shivering despite the fact that it wasn't really that cold, but even the warmth and safety of his bomber jacket didn't do anything to keep out the cold that was pure fear.

It took him a stupidly long time to reach the bathroom on the second floor, and even longer before the even opened the damn thing, as it felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. The room was still, silent, and dark like the rest of the school, but never before had a bathroom looked so terrifying. Hands shaking, he edged into the room and turned his attention to the mirror and paled.

There, right in front of him, was a handprint that seemed to have been made in blood, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose. _I-it's probably j-j-just a joke. I-I'm sure Gilbert s-s-set this up! Y-yeah…_He moved closer, scratching at the print. He sighed in relief when it flaked off and smiled, a bit more confident now. Taking a deep breath, he staring at the mirror as if daring it to attack him and murmured, voice trembling, "B-Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary...I-I h-h-h-have your c-children…"

He closed his eyes tightly, waiting for something to attack him, but when nothing did, he opened his eyes. Nothing. He grinned a bit. "Heh…I-I knew t-t-this was just a—"

His gaze locked on the reflection of a bathroom stall and his heart practically stopped. The door had been closed before, and there was a strange dark liquid rolling out from under the door. Shaking violently, he shuffled closer to the stall and shined the light into it.

Something lunged at him with a shriek of, "My children!" It looked like, from what Alfred saw before fear took over, some sort of creature from a Silent Hill game: tattered, blood-stained clothing, a face that was nothing but strips of flesh wrapped around the head, and skin blotched with sepia tones and dried blood.

It reached for his throat, and Alfred gapped at it in fear, stumbling back. The flashlight fell from his fingers and he ran, almost falling on his way out of the room. "I-Ivaaaaaaaaan!" He screamed around sobs, wiping at his eyes to avoid tripping or crashing into any walls.

[---]

Ivan dropped his half empty bottle of vodka in surprise. It shattered and he swore in Russian. Ivan, deciding to weep over his lost vodka at a later time, grabbed his pipe and a flashlight and charged out of the gym. He went in the general direction of the yell and realized that it had come from upstairs. Ivan wasn't quite sure why Alfred would purposely go to the upstairs bathroom, since it was supposedly haunted and there were _other_ bathrooms in the school, but that didn't really matter very much at the moment.

Ivan ran up the stairs, and tripped a few times, though he barely noticed. As soon as his foot hit the top step, he zipped down the hall. He turned a corner and ran straight into a crying blond. He amazingly managed to not get knocked down and he pulled the American into a tight hug. "Shh, shh, calm down," he said softly, trying to get Alfred to stop crying and tell him what had happened. The Russian heard a shuffling noise and glanced up. Not too far down the hall, there was some dead-looking woman…ish creature staggering towards them and making a noise that sounded like a mix between panting and screaming.

Ivan was not amused. At the moment, he didn't care if it was an actual ghost or if it was just some sap dressed up early for Halloween because he was going to beat it all to hell for scaring Alfred. He narrowed his eyes and slammed his pipe on the ground. He achieved a loud, metallic ringing sound that echoed off the walls. The creature seemed to pause slightly and it stopped making the annoying pant-scream noise. After a second, it started to move towards them again, albeit slower than before. Ivan tightened his hold on Alfred and slammed the pipe down again. _"Posledneey shans,"_ he called out, his voice becoming eerily childish with an undertone of something dark.

Of course, he had no idea what good it would do by threatening a ghost (he _highly_ doubted he could kill it by beating it with his pipe), let alone threatening it in _Russian,_ but he figured, _Why not?_ It would be the creature's own fault if it couldn't understand what Ivan had to say. And maybe threatening it would work long enough from them to get the hell out of there. Besides, what if it wasn't even a ghost to begin with? It that were the case and it turned out to be a human or a zombie or something, Ivan was quite sure he could beat it to death...a second death..Whatever.

Alfred clung onto Ivan and sobbed, burying his face in the Russian's coat. He couldn't form any real words, just senseless babbling and pointing behind him at the strange creature…that was Gilbert. He let out a quiet yelp when Ivan banged his pipe against the ground, cringing and shuddering for a moment until he realized what it was.

Gilbert had been, at first, convinced that this was the greatest idea in the world. Especially since he had come up with it. Until he saw Ivan and his questionably-stained pipe. Then it just seemed like the insane idea of an idiot. He had even dressed in (somewhat) convincing drag just for the sheer fact of terrifying Alfred, but he hadn't expected the blonde to drag IVAN into the damn place.

_F-fuck! Retreat!_ He thought to himself, as he ran back into the bathroom as if the devil himself were after him. Which, as far as he was concerned, Ivan was the devil. The second the door closed behind him, he locked it…not that he really expected it to keep Ivan out, but it would at least stall him long enough for him to climb out the window and regroup with Francis and Antonio.

Despite the fact that the "ghost" problem had been sorted out, Alfred was still crying, shaking his head and hiccuping as he tried to calm himself down. He was, officially, _never_ going into the second floor bathroom ever again. About the only words that could be understood between sniffles, whimpers, and hiccups, was, "Shoulda never taken that damn dare" and "I hate this stupid place." He buried his face in Ivan's chest once more, trying to hide his face as he finally choked out, "D-damn it…I'm supposed to be the hero! A-and here I am running to you all the time…" Fear gave away to frustration, then anger. He lightly – no need to break Ivan's ribs since the guy saved him - hit Ivan's chest as he swore. "Damn it!"

Ivan glared at the retreating creature and decided that either he was the ghost whisperer or that it wasn't so much a ghost as it was some asshole. And seeing as how he highly doubted he was the ghost whisperer, Ivan assumed that it was the latter. Luckily for the would-be ghost, Ivan was too distracted by Alfred to go hunt him/her down. Though Ivan had a pretty good idea who thought pretending to be a ghost and scaring Alfred to death would be a good idea, _Gilbert, you douche, I will kill you the next time I see you._

Ivan turned his attention from his murderous thoughts to Alfred and the Russian was completely unsure how to handle the situation. Sure, he could cause other people to cry and enjoy the hell out of it, no problem. But when it came to _comforting_ someone or trying to get them to stop crying, Ivan was lost. Probably because he'd never actually triedto get someone to _stop_ crying.

The Russian thought of when he was younger and his older sister would try to soothe either him or Natalia when they were upset. Sadly however, most of those memories were either from when he was too young to remember or had Natalia there being too..._Natalia_-like to be comforting. He mentally cringed when he thought about memories of his younger sister, and pushed all of _that_ mess into the farthest reaches of his mind.

Ivan felt Alfred hit him and he sighed. He wrapped his arms around the blond and instantly felt awkward and stupid, but he pushed the feelings down and focused on the American. "Shh, it's okay, Alfred. You only come running to me if there are ghosts involved, and that's okay. Everyone is afraid of something and it's okay to be scared. At least that's what I gather from all of those children shows that they have nowadays," he said, only half-jokingly.

Realizing that relating Alfred's fears to lessons that kids shows taught could backfire somehow, Ivan added quickly, "Besides, as amazing as this may seem, I, too, have fears." The Russian decided not to go into his fears, mainly because in retrospect, they were even stupider and more embarrassing than Alfred's.

Alfred glared up at Ivan when the Russian _dared_ to compare his _totally rational_ fear of ghosts to a children's show. Oh yeah. If he weren't still a sniffling, teary-eyed mess, he would of punched him. _Oh you sonvabitch. As soon as I'm done crying, I'm punching you, in the face, really hard. _Thankfully, before he could tell Ivan just how unhappy he was with that statement, Ivan hit him with some information that left Alfred wondering why he had been angry in the first place. _Ivan has fears too?_ He blinked for a moment, blue eyes wide with child-like shock at the Russian's words.

"You? Ivan? You're _afraid _of something?" Alfred sounded as shocked as he looked. "But you're…you're _Ivan_! You're the guy that terrifies everyone in school except for me! Hell, you spooked a ghost! And…wow…" He grinned a bit, rubbing at his eyes to try and get rid of the remaining tears that clung to his cheeks and eyelashes. "I never thought that you'd be afraid of somethin'…I guess…you are human after all, huh?" He didn't sound insulting or even teasing when he said that, just amazed. He put his head against Ivan's chest, eyes aching and head pounding after his crying. "…It's a little weird. I totally thought you were this big unstoppable guy that didn't get scared or anything, so it really damaged my ego whenever I had to show you this side of me…but I guess as long as you promise to show me that side of you too sometime and not hide, then I don't mind too much."

He grinned again. Leave it to Alfred to be emotional and show it. Apparently, Americans weren't known for their abilities to keep their emotions in check, as he gave Ivan a tight hug, a dorky grin on his face. "Just make sure that if you get scared or something, you come to me, 'kay? I owe you big time, so I'll take care of whatever it is you're afraid of! That's a hero's promise, all right?" He blushed a bit, realizing what he was doing, and released Ivan, coughing into his fist and eyeing the wall as if it was the most interesting thing in the world at the moment. "…Well! Should we enjoy the rest of the evening in the gym? I mean, I _did_ bring my TV and DVD player. And a couple movies, of course."

His extremely odd choice in items explained the bulkiness of his backpack, but not how he had carried it with one hand without even straining. But he didn't seem to wonder about it too much, seemingly content to blush and stare off into space.

Ivan wasn't sure if he should feel honored or just laugh at the ridiculousness of the idea. _I never knew that I was above the rest of humanity._ The Russian then stared at Alfred in surprise, amazed that he could ever come up with something deep. Though Ivan seriously doubted that he'd go to Alfred if he was scared, because if he _was_ scared, than that probably meant it had something to do with Natalia and he would sooner opt to get on the next plane to Australia before he used Alfred as a Natalia-shield.

The Russian smiled at the younger blond's behavior and idly wondered how in the hell Alfred could carry a _TV_ around like it was nothing. Ivan remembered his thoughts when he first met Alfred and the mental image of the American throwing around adult bulls. At the time, that had been just a funny thought, but Ivan was seriously considering it now. "...Alright, let's head back. Movies seem like a good way to pass the time." _As long as it isn't some Cold War propaganda crap, I could care less._

"Right! Movie night it is!" Alfred pulled out of Ivan's arms reluctantly and grabbed the Russian's hand, dragging him with ease behind him. He didn't seem afraid anymore either, a wide grin on his face and azure eyes betraying happiness. As he hurried down the stairs, he looked back at Ivan. "Hey, you never told me what you're afraid of! And what was it that you shouted at that ghost that made it run away? I bet it somethin' badass, right?"

He didn't slow down at all until they reached the gym, where he released Ivan's hand and promptly slipped on a vodka spill. He yelped, stumbling and catching himself on the floor, narrowly avoiding putting his hand in glass. "Huh? Why's there…" He straightened, sniffing the liquid on his fingers. "Vodka? Seriously? While I was getting scared out of my mind, you were drinking vodka?" He didn't sound too angry, more annoyed than anything. "Hope you got a second bottle…" He muttered, shaking glass off of his sneakers and shuffling off to set up the TV and DVD player. He settled down on the floor, removed his TV and small DVD player from his bag – one of two, actually – and set to work on hooking everything up.

"Hey, Ivan! Could you shine that light over here?" He motioned to the flashlight in Ivan's hand with the three wires he was holding, the TV tipped forward and against his knees.

Ivan snorted and gave Alfred a stony look. "Hey, you said you had to go to the _bathroom_, not that you were going to go _ghost hunting_. I was just passing the time. And of course I have more, you twit," he replied halfheartedly and flashed the light over in the American's direction. He glanced at the remains of his last bottle of vodka and made a mental note that he'd have to clean it up later, lest someone (namely, one of them) get hurt.

Ivan thought back to what Alfred had asked while they were going down the stairs and he sighed. He _really_ didn't want to tell Alfred what he was afraid of. It was a hundred times more pathetic than being scared of spooks. "...I told it 'last chance', but I think it was more afraid of my tone of voice than the words themselves," he said suddenly. Actually, he was pretty sure that the "ghost" was more afraid of _him_ than anything else, but he didn't feel like mentioning that.

The Russian paused, debating whether or not he should tell the other male about Natalia... "So what movie do you want to watch?"...and he totally chickened out. _God damn it._

Alfred nodded absently as he hooked up the DVD player to the TV, then plugged both into the wall. "Yeah, well…I wanted to get the scary part of the evening out of the way." He mumbled, squinting a bit and leaning close to the TV to make sure it was plugged in right before setting it upright and turning it on. "And really? 'Last chance' was really all you said? What a lame ghost…but yeah, your tone was pretty scary."

He dug around in his backpack and tossed out a series of random things while searching for wherever he had tossed the DVDs. "Hm, I was thinkin' maybe _The Grudge_? I've never actually had the nerve to watch it before, but I think I can handle it now. I mean, if I do get spooked, I just have to remember that you're there. Then I'll be cool." He was obviously just talking off the top of his head, not really paying attention to what he was saying or the meaning behind them. He grinned victoriously when he found his DVDs under several candy bars and a couple boxes of pocky. "You probably don't mind horror movies, ri…" He paused his rummaging and talking, eyeing the dirty little trinket at the bottom of his backpack.

_I thought I'd lost this old thing…I guess I just tossed it in here and forgot about it with all the stuff that's been going on lately. _He grabbed the dirty metal, a Purple Heart, and rubbed his thumb across the surface for a few moments. He dropped it back into the bag and grabbed the DVD he had been looking for, shoving the backpack away as if he were pushing away something ugly. He held up his DVD, grinning brightly and successfully, in his mind anyway, hid his sudden depression. "Found it~" He proclaimed.

Ivan resisted the urge to smack Alfred upside the head. _He seriously brought _horror_ movies? _And just when Ivan was sure that he could understand most of the American's thought process too. Though, he was quite flattered that his presence alone could offset the horror in a horror movie.

Then, the Russian noticed that something had changed. It was kind of like the air around Alfred had gotten heavy, and Ivan couldn't figure out why. But other than the atmosphere, it all seemed exactly as it did two seconds ago. _Maybe I'm just being paranoid_. Ivan stared at the American for a moment, then sighed. "Well, let's count our blessings since I don't know how we'd survive if you couldn't find it," he said. He went through his bag and found another bottle of vodka to replace his lost one. Then he walked over to the television and plopped down in front of it. "But just so you know, if you get yourself scared, it's your own fault."

Alfred, childishly, stuck his tongue out at Ivan, shoving the DVD into the machine and tossing the DVD case onto his backpack. He dragged over the thin blanket he had shoved into his bag and tossed it over him, then, trying to make it look like an after thought, tossed half of it over Ivan, scooting closer until he was against the Russian's side. "It's cold." Was all he said in his defense before pushing play. He nearly screamed when the ghost in the movie popped up on the screen, and toppled over backwards in surprise.

Blushing with embarrassment (again), he sat up and smacked the play button again, starting the movie. _I can't believe I got spooked just from the main menu._ He groaned, rubbing his face with his palm before finally asking, "Can I have some?" He motioned vaguely to the bottle in Ivan's hands. He had always wondered what vodka tasted like, and now seemed as good a time as any. Maybe a slight buzz would keep him from getting too freaked out again. He removed his hand from his face, trying to ignore the creepy music from the opening credits.

Ivan rolled his eyes. _What are you, a Floridian? _The Russian thought_._ Alfred probably wouldn't know what cold was if it bit him in the ass. But Ivan didn't really mind. Suddenly, the movie ghost came on screen and Ivan had to put his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing at Alfred's reaction. _Well that's certainly a good way to get the audience into the mood._

The Russian raised an eyebrow at the blond and smiled slightly. "Ah? You want to try?" He asked cheerfully. As surprising as it seemed, Ivan actually enjoyed sharing his love of vodka with whoever was willing to try it, though very few people would want to risk getting poisoned and/or drunk with Ivan Braginski around, so he never had a chance to share. Ivan handed the bottle to Alfred with a growing smile. "If you feel sick, please refrain from throwing up on me," he advised and turned his attention to the movie. He wasn't quite sure what was going on. Something about Japan and an old lady who didn't look Japanese.

Alfred scoffed. "Please. I can out-drink Gilbert _and_ Luddy, and I can't get sick or feel sick. I'm a hero, after all." He flashed Ivan a cheerful grin, cringing a bit when the ghost in the movie made that horrible, indescribable noise. He scooted closer to Ivan, whimpering slightly until that scene had passed, when he finally twisted the cap off of the bottle and took a drink. He was surprised really. He had been expecting a burn, maybe even the taste of rubbing alcohol, but instead he just got, well, not much really.

"This stuff kind of tastes like water." He said, taking another swig, longer this time. _No wonder this stuff's called Russian water._ He lowered the bottle, exhaling a heavy breath. He wiped at his lips with the back of his free hand, chuckling as he passed the bottle back to Ivan. "Not as bad as I thought it'd be. Thanks." Alfred turned his attention back to the movie, occasionally stealing the bottle back long enough to take a quick sip.

He actually wound up ignoring the movie, spending most of his time wondering what else they could do once the movie was done. He had explored, right? The trip to the hellish bathroom probably counted for that. He had done the Bloody Mary thing. And he hadn't run out of the school screaming yet. So far, he was convinced he was safe from the dreaded, "make out with Ivan" punishment, though after a few more sips of vodka, that wasn't sounding half bad. Alfred shook his head, looking to the TV. _All righty. I need to stop stealing the vodka from him, and just watch the movie, and don't think about weird things. _

Sadly, the movie just couldn't keep him interested for once. It wasn't as scary as it had been when he was watching it with stoic Kiku, and he wound up looking around for something else to do, his short attention span shortened even further by the alcohol in his system. Eventually, during one of the lagging parts, he looked at Ivan and asked suddenly, "So, what're you gonna do once you're done here? Career wise, I mean. And, well, are you…gonna stay here?" He looked away, rubbing at his neck. "Well, you'll probably go back to Russia since, well, I doubt there's much here in America you like." He wanted to smack himself for sounding sad about it. It wasn't like they were all that close…right?

Ivan stared blankly at the movie, completely uninterested. _Strange, it almost seems like a crappy Americanized version of a Japanese movie. Oh wait._ The Russian frowned, realizing that his negative thoughts that were poking fun at the movie were not even very interesting. He decided he'd have to blame it Alfred. Mainly because the blond was distracting him by drinking his vodka. And by sitting next to him in general, but that wasn't the point. He was almost amazed that the American seemed to be handling the drink so well.

The Russian raised an eyebrow at Alfred's sudden question. _Where did that even come from? And why the hell does he have to sound so sad? ...I bet it's the alcohol._ Ivan gave the American a slight grin. "Well, I'm still not sure what I want to do. Perhaps be a translator? I am quite good at English and I can even speak Russian," he said with an amused snort, "So there's a good chance that I will stay here." Ivan paused and gave Alfred with an unreadable expression. As if he'd go back to Russia any time soon. As long as Natalia was there, there was no chance in hell that Ivan would ever even make an attempt at visiting his mother country. It was a shame, really. After all, he wouldn't mind visiting it every once in a while.

Ivan decided to stop thinking such depressing thoughts and finish answering Alfred. He gave the blond a childish smile. "And don't be silly! There's plenty of things here that I like," he said. He put his finger to his chin in a "thinking" pose. "Let's see, I really like America's weather. It's usually warm. Back in Moscow, the warmest it usually gets in our warmest month is about seventy four degrees," Ivan paused, trying to think of what else he liked about America. "I also admire the diversity of people. It lets me meet new people who are fun to scare."

The Russian would have given the ground an annoyed look if he wasn't trying to keep on his childish act. For some reason, his answers seemed...lacking. As if he was forgetting something important..."Oh! And I also like Toris very much and since Toris is in America, I quite like being here," he said cheerfully. Actually, he liked several people, but since the brunet was the only one he actively stalked, that's the one he mentioned. Besides, Ivan wasn't about to mention that Alfred was one of those people. That would be embarrassing.

Alfred couldn't explain why he felt so anxious when Ivan began listing the things he liked about America, or why he felt like his heart had just been crushed under something heavy when he wasn't listed, just Toris. He plastered a grin on his face, nodding as happily as he could while inside he wondered if it would be okay to just go to sleep and pretend none of the conversation had happened. And he almost gave in, but decided that a hero didn't sleep away his problems.

He leaned back on his hands, looking at the ceiling of the room while ignoring the TV completely now as he said, "A translator, huh? That's awesome! Maybe you could work for the government or something! They pay really great money for people like that!" He smiled. "I'm glad you like America, 'cause, well, I love this place. Which is why I'm gonna become a fighter pilot! I wanna protect this country, and everyone in it until the day I die! Hopefully it'll be heroically and not in a back alley or something lame like that. I bet an explosion would be better than being shot…then again, if it's to protect someone I love, then being shot's okay too." He closed his eyes, smiling even though he had just nonchalantly brought up how he wanted to die, as if there was nothing wrong with it, as if he had thought it all out.

Truthfully, he had when he was still recovering from the incident that left him and Matthew living with Arthur. But those urges had long since faded.

When he finally realized how dark a turn his alcohol-induced ramblings had taken, he straightened and laughed nervously. "Okay, I think I'm done with the vodka today, and I think I'm gonna turn in. Just turn off the TV and DVD player when you're done, 'kay? Night." All of this was said in as few breathes as possible as he scooted away from Ivan, leaving the blanket around the Russian's shoulders. _Shit…I haven't thought about dying since that time…great, now he totally thinks I'm suicidal. Wonderful._ He sighed, his back to Ivan. He wondered if saying he wasn't suicidal would help, but he doubted it. Instead, he just curled up, hugged his jacket close, and tried to sleep.

Tried being the key word here. He mostly just tossed and turned while the movie played in the background before he finally sat up. Blurry-eyed from the fact that he was only half-conscious, he crawled back over to Ivan and flopped down onto his side next to the Russian, his back against the side of Ivan's leg. "…You'll be here when I wake up…ri…" his voice trailed off into slow and steady breathing as he finally succeeded in drifting off to a comfortable sleep.

Ivan was surprised. He had figured that Alfred would go into some form of public service, that wasn't surprising. What was surprising to the Russian was just how _morbid_ Alfred was being. He guessed that most people think about how they would die at least once in their lives, but he had never thought of Alfred as ever being one of them. The American was just too _naive_, too _sunny_ to ever consider death. _Well, alcohol removes most inhibitions._ It probably wouldn't have bothered the Russian so much if Alfred had at least acted a _little_ bit less relaxed by the whole idea.

He watched the younger blond try to go to sleep and hummed in thought. _...Maybe I should turn off the movie. It's not like I'm really watching it anyway._ Before Ivan could get up to turn off the television, Alfred came over to him and fell asleep. Ivan smiled softly and put the blanket over the sleeping American. It's not like a slight chill would bother him any. He scooted over to the TV and DVD player and shut them off. He waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the change in light. When he could see the vague outlines of the room, he scooted back over to Alfred and sighed.

Ivan suddenly wondered if Gilbert was still around. If that were the case, he sure as hell wasn't about to fall asleep._ Who knows what kind of shit that albino would try to pull. _He half-blindly looked for his bags and pipe so he could better prepare for his watch duty. His fingers grazed over something sharp and he grunted in pain. _Oh yeah, broken glass. Still have to clean that up._ Ivan decided that he'd just have to make sure he and Alfred avoided the area until the morning, then he'd clean that up. Or let the janitor handle it. Whatever came first.

He found his bags and pulled out his last bottle of vodka, then he found his pipe. "I guess you two will keep me company tonight," he mumbled and made his way back to Alfred's side. He set his pipe across his lap and twisted the vodka's cap off. He took a swig and glanced down at the younger blond. He rolled his eyes but felt a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Good night, Alfred," he said quietly and ruffled up the blond's hair.

[---]…Meanwhile…[---]

The red-eye flight had finally landed and the passengers slowly filed out of the plane sleepily, parents carting their sleeping children, and one particular person walking like the Terminator on the hunt for John Connors. She tossed her long silver-blonde hair over her shoulder, sharp eyes scanning the small crowd of people in hopes of seeing her beloved older brother. Of course, there wasn't much luck of that since she had left Russia without even her sister knowing and she, of course, hadn't sent word to him. But it was still nice to dream of one day seeing his smiling face, the smile directed at _her_.

Silently, she left the airport, stopping only when she had to and to grab her bags. She smiled to herself as she exited the front doors of the airport. _Brother Ivan, we'll be together soon…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"Whaaaat?!" Alfred stared at Gilbert, who stared back, ruby eyes narrowed and a shark-like smirk on his face. Alfred gave the albino a dirty look. Of course Gilbert had ways of knowing that Alfred had ignored one of the rules that had been set up ahead of time, and apparently going to the bathroom didn't count as exploring. "Aw, c'mon, man! Don't make me do that…"

Gilbert snorted, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looked around to make sure Ivan wasn't anywhere in sight. Only slightly content with not seeing him – it was a damn crime for someone that big to be so stealthy – without beating him with a faucet pipe, he leaned close and cupped his hand around Alfred's ear as he whispered, "Remember? You don't do it, I tell…well, you know the rest." Alfred swallowed hard, staring at Gilbert nervously.

Oh yeah, he was not happy with either Gilbert or his heart, which had quickened its pace at the thought of kissing Ivan. _Kissing_ Ivan. Kissing _Ivan_! As far as Alfred knew, kissing Ivan would result in the loss of his life in a very un-heroic manner. Gilbert's grin widened. "Aww, your face is as red as a damn tomato!"

"I-it is not, you albino prick!" Alfred yelped in his defense, blush darkening. Gilbert scowled.

"I'm not a damn albino! It's _royal_ skin coloring!" The albino snapped, putting his face directly in front of Alfred's. Alfred glared and pushed his forehead against Gilbert's, both growling and glaring at each other like rabid dogs while Antonio tried to get them to calm down.

"Royal! The only thing royal about you, Gil_bo_ is the fact that you're a _royal_ pain in the ass!"

"Chicken-shit coward!"

"I'm a hero, not a coward!"

The bickering continued for several more minutes, and finally ended with Alfred and Gilbert yelling something meaningless at each other and storming off in opposite directions. Alfred paused and snapped, making Gilbert stop walking as well, "Fine! I'll do it! But only to prove that I'm not a coward!" Gilbert smirked, then just waved and walked off, whispering for Antonio to get the camera and Kiku. Of course the camera came with Kiku like an action-figure's accessory, so including it in the list was needless.

Alfred puffed up his cheeks and dug out his cell phone, typing a quick text to Ivan. The only reason he actually had the number without asking Ivan was because he had, during the night, borrowed the Russian's phone to copy down the number for later use. He just never thought he'd be using it for this…

**[Meet me ASAP at…]**

_No…that makes me sound needy or in trouble._

**[Wanna catch a movie?]**

_Definitely a no. It sounds like I'm asking him out._

**[I need…]**

Alfred hung his head. How was he supposed to phrase this? Should he come right out and say that he needed to kiss him as payment? No, no, that was just…too low. And besides, it wasn't really the kissing part that bothered Alfred. In fact, he was kind of looking forward to it. Maybe then he could show Ivan just how cool he was and then the Russian would forget about Toris and…He hit his forehead with the phone to stop that train of thought, face scarlet. "Ugh! What the hell's wrong with me? I can't think about my best friend like that! It's just wrong!" Quickly, he just punched in a new message.

**[Can we talk? **

**I'm at that little garden thing between the dorms and the school.**

**Meet me soon, please?]**

Before he could study the message and change his mind, he jabbed the send button a little harder than he needed to, but at least the phone hadn't broken in half from the force of it. He sighed, slumping onto a bench and looking up at the sky. It was clear, blue, and the air was crisp, fall finally setting in. He checked his phone, then the sky. _Maybe I should send a message saying never mind…_

[---]

Ivan was trying his best to remain completely still and silent without falling asleep. He was hiding in some bushes, waiting for unsuspecting students to pass by. Then he'd just materialize out of nowhere (to them, at least) and scare them. After the fun little "adventure" he had to endure with Alfred, Ivan was in desperate need of causing people grief. Caring for Alfred to the point of staying up all night in the gym with nothing to do but drink vodka had bothered the Russian when he thought about it. He _needed_ to cause fear in others. Or else he'd become, god forbid, _soft_.

Ivan spotted a group of happy, laughing students coming his way. He smirked. They wouldn't be laughing for much longer. Just as they started to near his bush, a Russian folk song cut through the air, startling Ivan. He let out a sound of surprise and fell out of the bush. The group paused and gave him confused and horrified looks, then hurried along to get as far away from the strange Russian as possible. Ivan picked himself off the ground and glared at his phone.

Why did it have to alert him of a new text _right then?_ Couldn't it have waited until _after_ he'd scared the crap out of innocent people? Ivan looked at the retreating forms of the group and smiled. _Oh wait, I managed to scare them just by falling out of a bush. I still got it._ Now in a significantly better mood after being assured that he wasn't about to become nonthreatening, Ivan looked at his phone and raised an eyebrow. _Alfred?_ How did Alfred get his number? He was quite positive that he'd never given it to the blond.

The Russian shrugged and put the phone back in his pocket. _Well, it sounds important enough and I'm tired of sitting in a bush. I should probably go and see what he wants._ Ivan stretched out a little before walking to the garden Alfred mentioned.

When he got to the garden, he looked around for the American. When he didn't spot him right away, he sat down on a bench to wait. He looked around at the flowers in the garden, slightly disappointed that there were no sunflowers. If Ivan had been the one to plant the garden, that's the only type of flower there would be. He closed his eyes and started to imagine being in a garden of sunflowers instead of just a bunch of random flowers that attracted butterflies. _That would be nice._

[---]

Alfred, with his incredibly short attention span, stood and began to pace, checking his phone for the time. Five minutes. That was fine. Ivan could have been in the bathroom. Ten minutes. Maybe he was on the other side of the school. Twenty minutes. Now Alfred was worried. What if Ivan thought there was something weird about his message? What if he thought Alfred was going to ask him something weird? Well, he was, but he was pretty sure, "Ivan, can I kiss you?", wasn't in any part of the text message.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. Never before had he felt so stupid in his life. Of course Ivan wasn't going to just drop everything and come running, and he felt selfish and stupid for thinking that he was important enough that the Russian would do just that. _That's Toris that Ivan would go running to._ The thought stung more than he had thought possible, but he wasn't about to just go home.

That was when he caught sight of a familiar scarf attached to an equally familiar Russian, who appeared to be sleeping. His breath hitched, and he felt his heart almost stop. Ivan looked so peaceful just sitting there, and, for several minutes, all Alfred did was stare. Quietly, he edged closer, memorizing the gentle expression on the Russian's face. _He must be having a really good dream to look that happy._ Alfred blushed a bit when he realized that he had stopped just in front of Ivan.

Anyone looking at them must have thought him quite strange for just standing there staring like a love-struck fool. The thought of kissing Ivan just because of the deal left his mind completely, instead replaced by thoughts of, _He's…I want…should I…want to kiss him this much…? _He swallowed, heart beating faster. Could he really do this? He was certain that this was some sort of crime, but he couldn't think of a name for it. His blush brightened as he leaned down, licking his dry lips and pausing an inch from Ivan's face, holding his breath. His gaze flickered between Ivan's eyes and lips, trying to decide what to do, whether this was right or not. He didn't really care if anyone saw him doing this, but what if Ivan was dating Toris? Then this wouldn't be right, and a hero didn't do things like this if it could hurt someone. And what if he was completely wrong about Ivan and Toris? What if Ivan was straight? Then their friendship – as one-sided as it seemed sometimes – would be ruined because Alfred gave into a moment of weakness.

_W-what should I do…?_

[---]

Ivan wasn't quite sure when he'd dozed off, but he could tell he was at least half-asleep since now he was in a field of sunflowers without a building or another person in sight. _I must have been more tired than I thought._ He enjoyed his dream field for a bit, but then noticed that something was..._off_. It was as almost as if he was being watched. He sighed. Ivan knew _exactly_ what this was, since it actually happened on more than one occasion.

Sometimes when his dreams turned into nightmares, the field would suddenly freeze over and he'd be left all alone in the cold and freeze to death. This was generally the least favorite of his nightmares. His other reoccurring nightmare, while not as bad, certainly wasn't pleasant. He'd be happy in his field, then Natalia would appear out of nowhere and pin him down and try to forcibly kiss him while shouting something about getting married. It was scary in its own right. Not feeling up to dealing with dream-Natalia, Ivan forced himself to wake up and open his eyes.

The first thing he thought was, _Why are there two black circles in sky?_ The Russian leaned back slightly and blinked, trying to get his sleep-hazed brain to work. Then he realized what he had been looking at. _Oh, it's just Alfred's eyes. And the rest of Alfred too._ Ivan wasn't too sure why the American was so freaking _close_ to him, but he was sure that it was something simple._ He probably doesn't even realize the concept of personal space, the twit._ Actually, had the Russian not been so sure that Alfred was a completely oblivious dork, he would have thought maybe the blond had some type of alternative motive.

Ivan leaned back a little more to get more room in between them. He had learned quite some time ago that it's harder to have a comfortable conversation with someone if they're _right in your face _(usually, he would get in people's faces and they'd lose all ability to speak properly. It could be amusing). He gave Alfred a childish smile. "Hello, Alfred. Enjoying the view?" He asked with a teasing tone. His smile became slightly more sincere and he shook his head. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Sorry I fell asleep. So what did you need to talk to me about?" He asked.

Alfred's face turned crimson as he jerked back as if he'd been burned, looking everywhere but Ivan as he rubbed his left arm nervously. "O-oh, f-for a second there I thought you were dead!" He said weakly, knowing that he probably looked like a complete idiot, not to mention he looked guilty about something. He was just lucky he had managed to avoid hyperventilating at also being caught in the act of…whatever it was that he had been doing other than feeling like a total asshole.

He sunk into the seat beside Ivan, keeping at least a foot between them. _Great…wonderful. Why couldn't he have just stayed asleep? Then I could've just backed off and pretended like this hadn't happened._ He slumped in his seat, shoving his hands deep into his coat's pockets. He was still blushing as he said, trying to compose himself, "No problem…you must've been pretty tired." He smiled a bit, risking a quick glance at Ivan, then remembered the whole reason he had called Ivan out there. He blushed furiously once more, averting his gaze.

"U-uh, what I…wanted? O-oh! Uh…" He looked as though he were trying to hide in the collar of his bomber jacket, blue eyes betraying how torn he was. Once more, he wondered if this was right, but now he was realizing that maybe there was something more than just jitters at stake here. There was his friendship with Ivan, and he was beginning to realize that, if Ivan rejected even just the kiss, it would hurt too much for him to recover from. _S-shit…I was just supposed to kiss him, and now I'm beginning to think that I might…like him._

He swallowed hard, unable to look at Ivan as he asked quietly, "H-hey, um…uh…" He sighed. _I'm such a coward…_He stood and kicked at the ground, his back to Ivan. He couldn't look at the Russian as he bowed his head and said, his voice trembling, "I-I, uh…erm…c-can I…erm…uh…" He couldn't say it, no matter how hard he tried. Then he finally shook his head and decided that this stuttering wasn't very heroic, and heroes didn't think about things, they just did them. So, steeling his nerves, biting the bullet, he turned and leaned down, closing his eyes tightly.

Alfred's face felt like it was about to explode when his lips brushed Ivan's cheek, and just as quickly as he had done it, he was leaning back and stepping away a couple steps, head bowed. His lips tingled pleasantly even after just the brief contact, but he figured that the "pleasant" feeling would soon be replaced by, "ow, ow, my nose." He closed his eyes tightly, gripping his arm. "If you're gonna hit me, just make it fast, okay? And before Gilbert says anything, yeah, he dared me to kiss you, but I-I _wanted_ to…the dare…just…gave me a chance to realize it…" Oh yeah, he knew he sounded lame, and probably scared. Hell, he was scared.

Ivan eyed the American and idly wondered what he wanted that was so difficult to talk about that he was blushing and stuttering like a schoolgirl. _Well, at least it's kind of cute, in a weird...Alfred sort of way._ Then the unthinkable happened. Alfred _kissed_ him. Alfred kissed _him. What. The. Hell._ Ivan blushed and silently cursed his red cheeks for betraying his embarrassment. _Well at least Alfred has his eyes closed._

The Russian shifted in his seat and coughed awkwardly. He could honestly say that never in the entirety of his life had someone other than his little sister shown any..."romantic" interest in him. It was weird, but in a kind of good sort of way that made Ivan's stomach twist pleasantly. "I...see," he mumbled, having lost all ability to make at least a semi-intelligent statement. He bit his lip, trying to think of what the hell he was supposed to do next. And since he couldn't think of anything, he'd just have to wing it.

He stood up and shuffled his feet nervously. "Uh, I'm not...I'm not going to hit you," he started then paused, letting another uncomfortable silence hang in the air. And oh, did Ivan want to slap himself right there. _Can't I think of _something_ better to say?_ That's when Ivan made one of the worst realizations of his life. _Oh my god, I'm socially retarded. And I actually care!_ The Russian kicked the ground, wishing that some distraction would occur so he wouldn't have to look like a complete idiot in front of Alfred.

When no such thing happened, Ivan bit his lip again and tried to think of what happened in those silly movies his sister seemed to enjoy. The girl (Ivan silently deemed Alfred the "girl" because there was no way in hell _he_ was the girl) would confess her (in this case, his) true feelings to her (his) object of affection. Then the object of affection, who was usually non-socially retarded and suave millionaire, would admit his feelings too. Then they'd make out and the credits would come on and Ivan had just wasted three hours of his life watching a chick flick that he couldn't even remember the name of.

The Russian decided that making out with Alfred would probably be a bad idea, so he opted to be more subtle. He pulled the younger blond into a hug and awkwardly patted his head. "I..uh...very much like you too?" He tried, and flinched when he realized that he sounded far from his usual self. He pulled away quickly, ignoring the heat that spread through his cheeks to his ears, and swept imaginary dirt off of his clothes. "Right, so, uh...do you want to go...get something to eat or something?" Actually, he wasn't even sure if it was remotely close to lunch time, but he needed to suggest something, _anything_, that would make the situation less uncomfortable.

Ivan furrowed his brows and held out his hand as an afterthought, not sure if it was the right thing to do or not. _Oh god Alfred. You have just turned me into a wreck, and I can't even bring myself to mind._

Alfred had braced himself for impact, expecting to see stars and not in the good way either. Instead, Ivan was reassuring him (sort of) that he wasn't going to beat Alfred to a bloody pulp like he had expected, so he risked opening his eyes, only to stare at his feet as if trying to distract himself from the probable heartbreak that was bound to come since the fist hadn't.

He let the silence hang between them, unsure of what to do. _I'm a social idiot. Great, even though he isn't beating me senseless, I can't imagine this next part going we—_That thought ended abruptly when he was pulled into a hug. "Huh?"

He blinked at Ivan's chest as his head was patted, then up at the Russian when his feelings were (sort of) returned. For a moment, he thought his heart had stopped and his stomach was assaulted by rabid butterflies. And his cheeks – and ears – reddened when he realized that Ivan – _Ivan_ – was blushing and he resisted the urge to point out the obvious as that would just show how quickly his brain seemed to die when overloaded by emotions. A grin crossed his face at the mention of food, and he nodded. "Y-yeah…yeah, food sounds good…"

Alfred stared at Ivan's hand for a minute, before punching the air. "I-I…My first date!" He yelled, too excited and happy to even bother keeping his voice down, and he grabbed onto Ivan's hand, grinning at the Russian excitedly as he hopped from one foot to the other. "I can't believe it! I really thought you were gonna kick my ass or that you were dating Toris or something!" He released Ivan's hand and gave him a tight bear hug, actually lifting him an inch off the ground in his excitement. "I…sorry." He released Ivan, and suddenly looked nervous.

"I, uh, guess I got a little…um…excited?" He laughed a bit, taking Ivan's hand and looking a little more subdued but still happy enough for one to think that it was his birthday or something. "Anyway! Where are we gonna eat at? I heard about this Thai place a few blocks away, or if you don't like Thai food, we could find a Russian restaurant! I'm willing to try it!" He chattered at Ivan excitedly, waving his free arm around as if he were trying to take flight, obviously only able to contain his excitement for so long.

Ivan was surprised by how excited Alfred seemed. Before he had a chance to comment on what the other male said, Ivan felt himself get lifted off the ground in a hug. It wasn't the first time he'd been picked up off the ground by an overly excited Alfred, but it was still unexpected. He felt Alfred put him down and take his hand. Ivan chuckled slightly and glanced at their hands. _So a date, huh? _

The Russian turned his attention away from their hands and to the blond. "Thai food sounds fine. Besides, the nearest Russian restaurant is in the next town over, and that's too far away," he informed. He would know since he had tried to find one when he first moved here. He thought it was a shame that it was so far away, but he couldn't help that.

Ivan started to wonder about what they would do next. If they were going on a date, did it mean that him and Alfred were _dating?_ He was pretty sure that's what their situation would be called, and since he wasn't about to ask something like that, he would just have to assume he was right.

Thankfully (or not) for Ivan, Alfred was the only one stupid enough (and unashamed enough) to blatantly ask with a look of confusion on his face, "So…does this mean we're dating?" Of course, the only bad part about this was that Ivan had been wondering the same thing. Which…didn't help either of them really. But, honestly, he was too happy to care if this was just a one-time thing. He had kissed Ivan, gotten away unharmed both physically and emotionally, and they were on their way to the Thai restaurant to do whatever it was that people did on dates.

Alfred scrunched up his face in thought, rubbing between his eyes when he remembered all the couples he had ever seen. Somehow, he just didn't see him and Ivan staring lovingly into each others eyes while planning out their future together. The only time that _that_ might happen was if they were both drunk, and even then, they'd probably just argue or sulk in separate corners because men did not stare lovingly into other mens eyes. It just wasn't done.

"So, anyway!" He turned so he was walking backwards in front of Ivan, grinning like an idiot before the grin fell into a worried look. "Your family's not, like, gonna disown you or anything for dating a guy, are they?" He hadn't actually thought about it before, but now that he had, he was even more worried. Granted, he was a hero, so Ivan's family shouldn't mind, but they might mind the fact that he was, well, a he. He sighed. _Now I'm worrying like Toris. I hope I don't get a stomachache…especially before eating Thai food!_ Quickly he added, "I mean, Arty and Matty won't mind too much on my end. But if your parents won't like it then…" He trailed off, unsure of what he was even going to say if Ivan's family didn't approve.

Ivan flushed slightly and shrugged his shoulders. _How can he ask that so casually?_ The Russian didn't even bother to say 'yes' or 'no' because he didn't know. Luckily (or maybe unluckily) for Ivan, Alfred seemed to already have the answer to the whole 'dating' question. He hummed in thought, trying to imagine his relatives' reactions if he were to tell them he was dating another male. "Well...my father probably wouldn't mind too much," he started. Actually, he wasn't quite sure what his father, a military general, would think. They hadn't really talked to each other since Yekaterina had taken him and Natalia in since he was always too busy with his job after their mother had died.

Ivan furrowed his brows. "My older sister, Yekaterina, would probably be ecstatic. Hopeless romantic at times, I'm afraid," he said, recalling his sister's romantic side and how it caused him to have to watch countless crummy chick-flicks when he was younger. Then he thought about his _other_ sibling and he cringed. "My younger sister, Natalia...will be _less_ than pleased, I'm sure," he said. Actually, he was quite sure that she'd be absolutely _livid_, but that would happen no matter who he chose to date unless it was her. Then Natalia would be the happiest person on Earth while Ivan would be the most miserable.

The Russian realized that he had spaced out and he turned his attention back to Alfred, hoping that he hadn't looked as nervous as he had felt when thinking of his younger sister. "So who's 'Arty' and 'Matty'? I believe you've only ever mentioned the one," he said, trying to move the focus of the conversation from his family to Alfred's. He seriously did _not_ need to think about Natalia at the moment and, more importantly, he kind of wanted to know a little about the American's relatives.

Alfred seemed to notice Ivan's uncomfortable silence, and managed to, successfully with only a little whimpering of dismay, keep from pestering the Russian about what was wrong. Thankfully, as Alfred was certain his curiosity was going to get control of his mouth, Ivan asked about Arthur. Alfred smiled, turning his back to Ivan and pulling his hand free so he could put both hands behind his head. "Arthur, or Arty as I prefer to call him – it totally drives him up the wall – is mine and Matty's older brother. He took us in about nine years ago after…" he hesitated, then continued. "He practically raised us…but he's not to happy with me at the moment 'cause of what I wanna be. You know, a pilot? He thinks I'll crack like our old man did, but I'm a hero, and heroes don't break!"

Despite the confidence in his voice, he knew that it wasn't true. Heroes _could_, and had, broken from wars. He got a distant look in his eyes despite the smile that still clung to his lips. He wondered if maybe he could share that part of his past with Ivan, but chickened out in the end. It wasn't the type of topic that one should ever bring up on a date, let alone the first one.

Instead, he grinned back at Ivan and said cheerfully, "And I never really told you about Matthew. He's my twin, and kind of a ghost sometimes, but maaan…don't ever play hockey with him if he's mad at you or even slightly irritated…" He rubbed his arm at the memory, visibly cringing.

"He's even stronger than me when he's on the ice…" He mumbled, remembering the time he had actually broken his arm. Matthew had cried and apologized about it later, but Alfred promised himself – and a panicking Arthur – that he'd never, _ever_ poke fun at hockey ever again. Because, well, the first time around sucked. He glanced at Ivan, smiling lightly. "So your dad's in the army? That's awesome…I wonder if he has any cool war stories to tell?"

Ivan wondered what the blond had meant by 'crack', but he didn't want to ask since he had a pretty good idea and Alfred sounded so confident that whatever 'cracking' implied wouldn't happen to him. The Russian was glad when Alfred started to talk about his other sibling.

He furrowed his brows, trying to imagine another Alfred who played hockey and could be stronger than his Alfred, who seemed to pick him up off the ground completely by accident. Actually, Ivan couldn't really imagine that. He wondered if Matthew was good at hockey or if he was just good at beating the tar out of people while in hockey-mode. Either way, it did sound like he would be an interesting person to play the game with.

Ivan hummed in slight agreement. "Yes, he probably does," he responded vaguely, not wanting to tell Alfred about the rift between him and the general. He didn't want to concern the blond, after all. Ivan decided to switch the conversation back to probably the most safe subject. "So your brother plays hockey? I think I'd very much like to play with him if he's so good," he said, smiling slightly. He could use someone new to play with since only ever playing with Berwald, an intimidating Swede, was getting old.

Alfred laughed, but it was more nervous than happy, and yet his tone betrayed just how proud he was as he proclaimed, "He's the best, are you kidding? Heck, if Matty quit the team, they'd all be royally screwed." He gave Ivan a quick look over even though he already knew how strongly built Ivan was. Part of him wondered if Matthew would be able to actually handle the tall Russian, and he got a defensive look on his face at the idea of Matthew being in a hockey rink with Ivan.

Yes, he knew Ivan wasn't as bad as he liked to act, but Matthew…got competitive to say the least, and God only knew how many times he could take Ivan down before he got sick of hitting the ice or plexiglass and fought back. "Um…but, uh….yeah, Matty's pretty good…" Now it was obvious that he was a little worried about his twin, but was trying not to insult or offend the Russian by implying that something bad could (and probably would) happen if he and Matthew got in the same rink.

He grinned a bit. "I bet you're tired hearing about me, huh?" Alfred looked ahead, certain he could see their destination. His stomach rumbled and he laughed a bit, a mischievous look in his ocean-blue eyes. "Hey, Ivan?" He stopped, turned on his heel, and planted a kiss on Ivan's cheek before releasing the Russian's hand and taking off at full speed toward the restaurant. "Race ya! Last one there has to buy the winner a bottle of vodka!"

[---]Later[---]

Ivan decided that the whole "date" thing hadn't be a complete failure. After losing Alfred's little challenge (which hadn't been very fair in first place), everything had gone pretty smoothly. Other than that he had ordered something really spicy and had _not_ been prepared for it (he was sure that Alfred had said it was good just to trick him). Also the generally awkward feeling in the air and the blushes that made Ivan feel so gay that he might as well have been a step away from wearing frilly dresses and wearing makeup.

Really, the Russian wasn't sure how to deal with all of the awkwardness that sudden dropped into his lap. Ivan was simply _not_ used to feeling like every little action he made could make him look like a complete idiot or that he could accidentally upset Alfred so much that he'd want to get a new room or something. It was certainly never something he had to worry about before...ever. It was all unnecessarily stressful and Ivan couldn't wait to just get back to their room and...

Ivan's eyes widened. _Oh god, we have the same room._ The Russian couldn't believe he looked over the ridiculously obvious detail. If just talking to Alfred caused constant nervousness, then what would it be like sleeping together in the same room? Ivan decided that the answer probably wasn't a pleasant one.

He turned to the American and smiled slightly. "How about you go back to the room? I'll go buy some vodka, as promised," he said. Actually, he was pretty sure he still had some unopened bottles of vodka back at the room, but he needed some time alone to think. He gave Alfred a hesitant kiss on the cheek, and started to walk to the Liquor Store without waiting for the blonde's response. _Why did I have to become all self-conscious _now?!

Alfred, honestly, thought the date was going quite well. Then again, he was never concerned about whether or not he looked or sounded stupid since heroes could handle it, but Ivan's discomfort hadn't escaped his notice. Sadly, he could never find a way to bring it up, as they headed out the door, Ivan practically ran off. Alfred stood there, looking depressed as he tried to call out to Ivan, but nothing left his mouth. _What did I do wrong…?_

He sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets and beginning the long, boring, and lonely walk back to the dorm. He just couldn't figure out what he did wrong. Had he said something to offend Ivan? He hung his head. "D-damn it…this is all my fault. If I hadn't kissed him, then we could've just been…like we were." He ran a hand through his hair, then rubbed his face with his palm. He could feel a headache coming on, and he was, honestly, hoping that this was a bad dream. Yes, he was happy, happier than he had been in years actually, but if this was making Ivan uncomfortable…

Alfred rounded a corner, pausing when he almost ran into someone. "Oh! Uh, sorry?" He blinked, confused. The girl, maybe in high school, was dressed…very strangely, and she was giving him a look that made his blood run cold. He suddenly had the urge to scramble backwards and run like a little girl, especially when her icy gaze met his.

"You filthy American…how dare you soil my beloved?" She growled.

"Huh? Your…beloved? What're you—" He didn't have time to react, think, or even blink before her arm lashed out, a metal pipe clutched in her small hand. The metal struck the side of his head, and he dropped like a brick with a scream of pain, the pavement scraping his hands when he tried to catch himself. He looked up weakly, tears mingling with blood. His ears were ringing, and his vision was getting blurry, a sure sign that he wouldn't be conscious for much longer, and the last thing he wanted to do was be unconscious while this psycho bitch did whatever it was that she intended to do.

She raised the pipe once more, a murderous look in her eyes. "If you live, then you'll know to stay away from my beloved Ivan…" She brought the pipe down once more, and everything went black.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Gilbert was pissed. Royally. Not only was his arm broken because he stupidly ran into a pipe-wielding psycho that was in the process of breaking an unconscious Alfred's hand, but Alfred was intensive care, and the only thing the blond had mumbled during his few moments of consciousness was that he didn't want Ivan to see him like this. The other thing that made his level of unhappiness increase was the fact that he was, stupidly, stomping to Alfred's dorm to get the Russian.

And after the news Arthur had been given – that Gilbert had, conveniently, overheard – that had left the Brit swearing and cursing while in tears, he wasn't looking forward to any of this. Especially the talk with Ivan.

He stood in front of the door, his cast-covered arm against his chest as he tried to figure out what the hell he was supposed to say. It had been a few hours, so he just hoped that Ivan hadn't gone out to find Alfred. He ran a hand through his hair and pounded on the door with his uninjured hand. "Hey! Fucking Russian! Open the fucking door! And before you decide to punch the awesome me in the face, it's about Alfred! The idiot's in the damn hospital and needs to see ya. Well, if he can, anyway."

He kicked at the floor, looking at his feet. He was, officially, being a girl about this, and he was convinced it was all Alfred's fault for being adorably stupid. _I'm such a fucking girl for worrying about the idiot...stupid, stupid Alfred and his cuteness...and damn Ivan for getting to him first._

_[---]_

Ivan was mildly concerned. After going out for a walk and buying vodka he'd come back to his room to find no Alfred present. At first, he had wondered if the American had somehow gotten lost. He wasn't quite sure how that would work, but he supposed it could happen. So he had waited.

After almost an hour of waiting, Ivan had started to come up with ideas as to where the missing blond could have ended up ranging from 'he's just hanging out with a friend and lost track of time' to 'the mafia kidnapped him' to 'alien abduction'. So actually, Ivan was quite a bit more than "mildly" concerned.

Just as the Russian was about to go out and find someone who could tell him where Alfred had gotten off to is when he heard an annoying voice that made him shoot a glare towards the door. God damn _Gilbert_. Ivan opted to ignore the albino until he said the magic words that made Ivan blanch. _Hospital?_ The Russian wasted no time opening the door and giving Gilbert an imploring and concerned look. "What do you mean he's in the hospital? What the hell happened?!" Ivan realized that he was doing a very poor job of concealing his emotions, but right now it wasn't of much consequence.

Ivan noticed Gilbert's injury and shook his head. He grabbed the albino by his good arm and started to pull him along. "Just tell me on the way there," he said gruffly. _How the hell did he get himself put into the hospital?! It's only been a couple hours since I last saw him. Please be okay, you damn twit._

Gilbert yelped as he was dragged by Ivan – by_ Ivan_ – and stumbled, attempting to keep up. He had to lengthen his strides and run just to keep his arm from being ripped out of its socket by the distressed Russian. He decided then that he should just avoid being a nice guy all together, because so far it had only given him a broken arm, a bruised ego, and a dislocated shoulder.

"Ow, damn it, Ivan! Stop dragging the awesome me!" He swore, but found himself unable to pull away no matter how hard he struggled, so in the end he wound up giving up and just letting the Russian drag him along. He sighed, scowling at the back of Ivan's head. "And the idiot got put there by some psycho-bitch with a pipe! The bitch broke my fuckin' arm when I tried pullin' her offa him!"

He held up his cast as if to show the "payment" he got for being nice. He lowered his gaze to the floor, gritting his teeth. If Ivan was upset now, he could only imagine how horrible it would be to tell Ivan everything that had happened.

Quietly, he added, "The docs say he'll be fine 'cause he's too stupid to die or something…but they said he'll need glasses from the few tests they managed to do 'fore he passed out again. Apparently getting' smacked in the head a couple times screws with your eyesight…and he's kinda out of it thanks to the morphine and stuff, but he'll be fine…" He silently cursed at himself. Why was he trying to comfort Ivan?

'_Cause he cares about that idiot._ He went quiet after that. "I mean…it's not the end of the world. So he's a bit near-sighted or far-sighted or whatever. At least the idiot's alive, right?"

Ivan blanched again. "At least he's alive" was still concerning. Just how bad must he be injured for "at least" to be a good thing? He bit his lip and promised pain to whoever this "psycho-bitch" was. Because if Alfred was really as bad as Gilbert made him out to be, he'd probably kill the one was responsible.

He pulled Gilbert all the way to the hospital and after threatening a random nurse for directions, they were on their way to Alfred's room. He let go of the injured albino and nervously went into the room, not knowing what to expect.

Alfred had seen better days, that much was obvious, as were the blood-stained bandages wrapped around his head, the splint on his left hand, and the various bandages littered across his arms and cheeks. His chest was partially exposed, revealing several more bandages. He was, despite the drugs, still conscious, though only barely and a doctor was doing eye-tests and a few memory exams. The heart monitor beeped quietly, signaling that his heart was still beating at a slow and steady pace, and clear liquid dripped silently into the IV in his arm..

Eventually, the doctor sighed and backed away from the groggy and confused Alfred and turned to leave, nearly jumping out of his skin when he caught sight of Ivan. "What are you doing here, sir? If I won't let his brothers in then—"

"Doc?" Alfred mumbled, forcing himself to sit up as best he could without vomiting as the room spun. He was pretty sure that there was only supposed to be the doctor, but there were two blurry shapes, one that was probably Ivan judging by the build, and the other being the doctor. "…He can stay. I-if he doesn't, I'm packin' up and leaving." The doctor sputtered and protested, but eventually caved in when Alfred, stupidly, started to remove the IV. "Can you leave us alone?"

"…As long as you stay in that bed and keep the IV in, then fine. But only until visiting hours are o—"

Alfred shook his head slowly so as not to make the blurry room spin any more than it already was. "Nuh-uh…he stays…or I go." The doctor growled a bit, but didn't say anything else, muttering about stubborn children and leaving, closing the door quietly behind him. Once he and Ivan were alone, he laid back down with a huff, closing his eyes and groaning. "Ugh…I shoulda had him up the dosage before he left…" He smiled weakly. "…I hope the blurry vision goes away soon, 'cause it's a little unnerving not being able to see right." He opened his eyes, a sad and knowing look on his face. "…It isn't though…is it? I'm really royally fucked up now…"

He grit his teeth and pressed his uninjured hand against his face, tears welling in his eyes. He couldn't believe it. The blurry vision would surely go away! But…he knew better. The doctors had told him so, and Arthur had screamed and cried about how he'd do anything he could to pay for corrective surgery. But Alfred had rejected the offer while doing his best to keep his smile in place. Sadly now, with Ivan, the only man he trusted with his tears and secrets, the valve broke and the tears came freely. He swore quietly around shuddering sobs, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow even though he knew he had no reason to hide. "I-Ivan, you gotta…this is some fucked up nightmare, right…?" He asked quietly as he tried to force himself to stop crying. "The blurriness is just a side effect o-of the pipe-beating! I'll be able to see a-ok in no time…"

Ivan bit his lip. Seeing Alfred in such a poor state and so distraught...It made his heart ache terribly. He sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed the American's hand, debating mentally what he should say. On one hand, if he told the blond that everything would be alright and dandy, it would probably be a lie. On the other hand, if he told him what he truly thought, it'd probably just serve to upset Alfred more._ He'd be upset either way. Just one way he'd upset _and_ disappointed while the other he'd be just upset._ Ivan stared intently at the blond's hand and ran his thumb over his knuckles. _I guess it's best to get it out of the way now._

The Russian took a breath and shifted his gaze to meet the American's. "Alfred," he said softly, trying to put it as gently as possible. "I...don't think it'll go away." Ivan suddenly felt his stomach do an angry flip and he frowned. There was such a high chance that it wouldn't go away, that Alfred would never be able to see right. And whose fault was it? Some bitch with a pipe? Ivan suddenly felt incredibly furious.

He fought to keep his face blank and he licked his lips. "Alfred, do you remember who did this? What she looked like? Anything so that I may find her and...talk about _this_, da?" He asked evenly. _If I ever find that bitch, I'll kill her._

Alfred let out a shaky breath, removing his arm from his face and gripping Ivan's hand tightly. Even in his weakened state, his grip was firm, and his sky blue eyes were serious despite his sadness. After a moment, he wiped his tears away, then grinned. "Heh…thanks." His voice betrayed lingering sadness, but it was obvious he was bottling it up until later. Or maybe he was stronger than even he believed. Either way, it probably wasn't healthy. "For not sugar-coating it, I mean." He reached up, touching Ivan's cheek with his fingertips. "My attacker…"

He frowned, looking up at the ceiling in thought. For a long while he was silent, putting together the jumbled pieces of what he recalled of the attack. He sighed, then sighed. Honestly, about the only thing he could remember was that he had been worrying about…something…probably Ivan, and then pain…Alfred groaned and looked at Ivan, apologetic. "Sorry…I'm drawin' a blank…" He looked upset with himself, stressed, but no tears this time. This time, he was just angry. "Shit…I can't even remember much about lunch…just that you nearly choked on a pepper."

Alfred gave Ivan's hand a squeeze, as if to make sure that Ivan was still there, and shook his head again, forcing a grin. "I'm sure it'll come back to me." He had to be strong. He wanted to be helpful, but sadly, all he had was the mental image of the first part of their awkward lunch, and then pain. He blinked, then looked annoyed. "Wait, wait…I got my clock cleaned by _a chick_?!" He groaned. "Okay. My ego's been killed." He sighed.

Ivan was a bit disappointed that Alfred couldn't give him more information, but he supposed it couldn't exactly be helped. After all, if the American couldn't even remember most of what happened at lunch, then how was he expected to remember the details of his attack? Though, Ivan sorta wished that Alfred had forgotten about his episode with the pepper...

The Russian smiled softly and ruffled Alfred's hair with his free hand. "Don't worry about it, I'm sure you'll remember. And yes, a girl beat you up. But that's okay, it was probably a surprise attack or something," he said, starting to feel angry with Alfred's attacker again. Really, Ivan didn't care if whoever did it was male or female. He wouldn't hesitate to take them for a round with _his_ pipe. Ivan took a breath, calming himself down. The last thing he needed was to lose his temper when Alfred needed him.

Trying to think of ways to distract himself from more negative thoughts, Ivan hummed a bit and glanced at Alfred. "So, how are you, um, feeling?" He asked lamely. _Great. That was a _stupid_ question. How do you think he feels Braginski?_ The Russian mentally berated himself.

Alfred grinned a bit and sat up slowly so as to avoid getting any dizzier than he already was and mumbled to himself to keep his mind on Ivan and not the spinning room. He remained sitting for a moment, eyes closed. Finally, he opened his eyes and pulled his hand from Ivan's, pumping his fist in the air as enthusiastically as he could in his condition. "I'm A-OK! Awesome! What kind of hero would I be if I let a little head wound and…uh…" He looked at his broken hand, squinting and pulling his hand closer to get a good look at it. "And a broken hand keep me down?" He said with a bright grin and a laugh, letting his arm drop to his side.

Eventually, he decided to – stupidly – prove this by climbing out of bed and using Ivan's shoulder as support until he could remain standing without worry of falling over or vomiting. "See? Just fine. So the docs can let me out of here, I'll get some glasses, and then, I can get back to school. Otherwise I might wind up a vegetable or something!" Of course, only Alfred could think that he would become a vegetable just by laying in a bed. Chances were good though that he would only, if forced to remain in bed, whine and complain about being bored, and would probably call Ivan, Arthur, or Matthew at all hours of the night out of boredom.

"Besides." He sat back down, bumping Ivan's shoulder with his own and looking around nervously. "This place is probably h-h-haunted…I mean, seriously! Think of how many people have died here!" He whimpered a bit, tugging on Ivan's sleeve. "C'mon, tell the docs I can go…I don't wanna be here…"

Ivan rolled his eyes, but still smiled slightly at Alfred's behavior. He idly decided that Alfred was probably the only person he'd ever know who seemed to be more concerned about ghosts hanging around than their own injuries. "I'm sure almost everyone in this hospital doesn't want to be here," he said, looking at the ceiling in a bored manner. "And you see, most of them have injuries less severe than your own. Yet they still have to be here," he hinted slowly.

Then Ivan remembered that Alfred, at the very least, seemed quite oblivious.. He decided that his hinting was probably wasted on the blond and he should be more straightforward. "So no. I wouldn't tell the doctors you're fine, because you aren't." The Russian patted Alfred's shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "Don't worry about it. If you just listen to what the doctors have to say, I'm sure you'll be out of here in no time. ...And if you get scared or something, you could just call me, da?" Ivan hoped that he convinced Alfred to not make a fuss about staying. Because it didn't matter what he tried, Alfred was _going_ to be staying in that hospital bed until he got better because if he didn't, Ivan would tie him down to the bed and _force_ him to stay there.

Alfred scoffed. Of _course_ Ivan wasn't going to cave that easily. If ever. He drummed his fingers against his knee, trying to think of a way to convince Ivan otherwise but drew a blank. Alfred was of course, not known for his intelligence or bargaining skills, hence the reason he practically owed Yao his soul and then some. "Yeah, well, if their injuries aren't as bad as mine, why the hell do _they_ have to stay if I'm already walking around and stuff?" He grumbled, sulking. He hated this. At least Arthur and Matthew could come back in since he wasn't in critical condition anymore.

He twitched violently when Ivan, blatantly, denied his request. He gave the Russian a dirty look. "That's SO not fair, Ivan! Don't get pissed at me if I call you at two in the morning because the girl from the Ring just fell through that TV!" He cringed at the image and shuddered. Now he was going to stare at the TV all night long because of his fear of ghosts. And _why_ had he chosen the Ring of all things? _Because I'm a mental masochist. _He thought bitterly, eyeing the wall-mounted TV that only ever seemed to have Soap Operas or talk shows available. "I-I don't wanna get killed by a ghost…" He whimpered. "I don't care if I'm bleeding out my eyes, I'm _not_ staying here."

He glared at the IV in his arm and tugged on it a bit, testing to see how much it would hurt if he just pulled it out. "Hey, get me a bandage or something." He mumbled absently, obviously bracing himself for any pain that would come when he got up the nerve to remove the IV…probably violently.

Ivan snorted, unimpressed, and shook his head. Why did Alfred have to be so god damn stubborn? And worse, why did he have to go and scare himself? Seriously, what normal person saw a TV and thought of the Ring chick coming to get them? Ivan decided that he probably did it on purpose, just to make him feel guilty or something.

The Russian glared slightly at the blond, but still managed to smile childishly all the same. There was _no_ way that he was about to let Alfred leave because that was just _stupid_. The American was injured and it would be too great a risk to let him run around all willy-nilly.. "Ah Alfred. You can be so funny sometimes, kol kol kol," he chuckled dangerously. He grabbed the blond by the shoulders and shoved him back onto the bed, then awkwardly laid on top of him. Ivan was worried that maybe he was being too rough, but he keep the childish smile on his face.

He cocked his head to the side and ruffled up Alfred's hair. "I didn't make the rules, but I'm certainly going to enforce them. So please don't make this any harder, _moy dorogoy_,[1]" he said cheerfully. He made himself more comfortable on top of Alfred and nuzzled the blonde's neck. He was still worried that he might actually be hurting the American, but he wasn't about to get up, so he ran his hand through Alfred's hair in a comforting manner.

Alfred squeaked when he was suddenly pushed onto the bed, thankfully _not_ pulling the IV out in the process. He gave Ivan a mildly worried look. Honestly, the whole, "kol kol kol" thing had been scary. Not, "creepy" scary, but "oh my god, he's going to murder me and enjoy it" scary. He steeled his nerves and wished he could find the nerve – and desire – to shove Ivan off and run like a little girl to Matthew or Arthur.

"Why the hell do you keep messing up my hair, man? I work hard to make it all bedhead and stuff. And what the hell did you just say? _Moy_…what? What the hell does that mean?" He blushed brightly, breath hitching in his chest when he felt Ivan nuzzling his neck, his eyes closing for a moment. It felt nice…comfortable and warm, and Ivan – while heavier than Alfred would have liked at the moment – was _laying _on _top_ of him like a big, warm blanket. Only human and playing with his hair, breathing on his neck, and – "Oh fuck, d-d-don't touch that hair!" Alfred yelped suddenly, face scarlet when he felt Ivan's fingers brush the cowlick, his words actually coming in more of a groan than anything.

He covered his mouth, blue eyes wide when he realized what he had just said and the implications behind it. "U-um…erm…I just…erm…oh, shit." He looked at the ceiling, blushing with embarrassment. Oh, he really hoped Ivan didn't get curious. _How the hell do I explain it if he asks? 'Oh, yeah, my _hair_ turns me on' just doesn't sound right. I think he'd laugh at me and think I'm kidding…_

Ivan jerked back, concerned that he had somehow hurt Alfred, but the American didn't really look like he'd been hurt. More like embarrassed, though Ivan wasn't sure why he would have any reason to be embarrassed (other than the obvious reasons, at least). And what was this about hair? The Russian cocked his head to the side and tried to figure out what "that hair" was referring to. The only bit of hair that really stood out was Alfred's cowlick.

Ivan hummed in thought. Well, curiosity killed the cat and all, but the Russian doubted that he would spontaneously combust just for messing with some hair. Besides, Alfred's previous reaction was both really strange and oddly cute, so Ivan wanted to see if he could get it again. "You mean this?" He asked and experimentally brushed his fingers over the suspicious cowlick, not really sure what to expect.

Alfred blushed again, brighter this time, and bit his lower lip to stifle a groan. He gave Ivan his most threatening look – which, at the moment, looked more cute than intimidating – and said weakly, "D-dude, t-t-that's not fair…not fair at all…" He batted Ivan's hand away and attempted to roll over to bury his face in the pillow, but, sadly, Ivan was still laying on him and _still_ pinning him down.

He swallowed hard, averting his gaze. He hugged Ivan's neck and grumbled, "Don't…mess with the hair. Any other part of my head is fine, just not _that_ hair." He really didn't want to explain any more than that. Again, telling the Russian – or anyone for that matter – that a certain lock of _hair_ turned him on was bound to get him laughed at, or that hair being used against him. And he just _knew_ that Ivan, with as conniving he could be sometimes, wouldn't hesitate to use his one weakness against him. Of course, Alfred, in classic Alfred fashion, began to ramble at a hundred miles a second, face flushed and eyes wide.

"I mean, it's not like there's anything _wrong_ with the cowlick or anything since, you know, it's j-just hair, and what harm can hair cause, so of course it's _okay_ for you to mess with it, it's just a total pain in the ass to fix 'cause it gets bent super easily and then I have to take a whole bunch of time _fixing_ it, and it's just a really big hassle and…stuff. Oh, an' about the weather? Does it look like it's gonna rain? Yup, definitely looks like rain. But again, don't worry about my cowlick, 'cause it certainly is just a normal one! Yup…normal!" He paused finally to take a breath, looking just as embarrassed as he had a few seconds ago…probably more so, actually.

Ivan smiled at Alfred, pleased by the blush and general cuteness that Alfred seemed to be giving off. Then Alfred started on a lengthy tangent about his hair, then the weather, then back to his hair again. Ivan gave the American a completely bewildered look. Why couldn't he mess with some _hair?_ Because it was apparently hard to fix? The Russian wondered why Alfred seemed so keen on pointing out his cowlick was normal. It actually made him think the exact _opposite_. Though, Ivan figured that the American wasn't about to straight-out tell him what the deal was.

The Russian smiled childishly and laughed slightly. "You're so funny Alfred, but fine. I won't mess with your hair if it bothers you so much." _At least for now._ Ivan figured that he'd have to experiment with his new found knowledge/curiosity at a later time. Maybe when Alfred was in a better condition. Ivan laid his head down on Alfred's chest and sighed.

Now that he wasn't distracted by mysterious cowlicks or rebellious blonds who wanted to wander around instead of getting better, Ivan was starting to feel awkward again, which made him mildly disgusted with himself. If he hadn't felt so awkward before, Alfred wouldn't have been left alone and probably wouldn't be laying in a hospital. The Russian sighed again, deciding that he didn't want to dwell on it. "...So if I get up, are you still going to attempt to leave?" He asked finally, glancing at Alfred.

Alfred sighed, glad that Ivan was leaving the subject alone, though he figured it would come back to haunt him later on, probably once he was actually a hundred percent better. He toyed with Ivan's hair lazily, yawning a bit. "If you get up, I'm gonna cry because this place is cold, your warm, and this place is probably haunted." He mumbled tiredly. Thankfully, due to all of his earlier excitement he was finally getting tired and fighting less, but he was determined to stay awake.

"…and I'm not funny." His words were broken up by a yawn, his blue eyes sliding closed. "…Gimme my cell phone…so I can call ya when the Ring girl tries to eat my face." Alfred smiled a bit despite the horrifying thought of being killed by a demented Japanese ghost girl. After all, if anyone could scare away said ghost, it would be Ivan. He opened an eye a bit. "Hey…can you tell Matty to come in here? I got yelled at by Arthur, so I think it's fair that Matt gets a turn."

He chuckled. He highly doubted that Matthew would yell at him. Cry, yes. Yell? Doubtful. Either way, he needed to see him to at least make sure that Arthur hadn't given the Canadian a heart attack or something with his British way of throwing everything out of proportion.

[---Meanwhile---]

Matthew's nerves were fried. Every single atom of his being was freaking out all at once. It was bad enough that Alfred had gotten himself put into the hospital, but it was worse that the doctors wouldn't let him or Arthur in to see their brother. At least he could keep his cool. Arthur hadn't, and he had gotten himself thrown out. Now the Canadian was all alone in the waiting room, worried to death over his brother.

He twiddled his thumbs and glanced at the clock for the sixth time in five minutes. Matthew knew that all this panicking wouldn't really do anyone any good, but he just couldn't help himself. He quickly reasoned that maybe, just maybe, the doctor would let him in since he was so mild and Arthur wasn't with him. Matthew nodded, as if to assure himself that his plan was a decent one, and he started towards Alfred's room.

After walking past several nurses and doctors (he silently thanked his strange invisibility for being useful for once), he turned down a hallway and saw a familiar albino standing awkwardly in front of the door to Alfred's room. Matthew furrowed his brows and frowned slightly. _Gilbert? What is Gilbert doing here?_ The Canadian suddenly wanted to smack himself. He remembered that Gilbert had been the one to save his brother, it made sense that he'd want to be there too.

Though, Matthew still wondered why the albino had come to the rescue in the first place. It was no secret that he picked on Alfred, and occasionally him (though Matthew guessed that it was just because he was being mistaken for his American brother), so why would he get hurt to save someone he doesn't even like? The Canadian decided that he would probably never figure it out. But still, Gilbert _had_ saved his brother, and Matthew was incredibly thankful.

He walked a little closer and cleared his throat nervously. "Um, Gilbert?" He said, hoping to get the albino's attention. He shuffled his feet and felt his face flush. _Damn it, why is it so hard for me to talk to people?_ Matthew looked down at his feet. "Um, t-thank you very much for s-saving Alfred and all. I mean, you didn't have to or anything and you got hurt and...yeah," he said, silently hating his meekness.

Gilbert was leaning against the wall, minding his own business, when someone spoke to him. He let out a yelp of surprise and turned to see who had _dared_ to interrupt his awesome thoughts by scaring the hell out of him, but his glare faltered when he saw the nicer half of Alfred. "Hey, Pancake Boy…" He mumbled awkwardly, looking away and rubbed at his head with his uninjured hand. Great. Now he was being _thanked_ and he was _liking _it.

Then again, he was being thanked because he had awesomely come to the rescue. He cleared his throat.. "Y-yeah, well, someone as totally awesome as me can't just let some weirdo beat the hell out of MY verbal punching bag, right?" After several seconds of silence, he sighed. "…Welcome. For saving your retard of a brother."

Suddenly, he reached out and jabbed Matthew on the forehead. "Don't do shit like that, Pancake Boy. It makes ya look weak or something. Totally not awesome. And then I have to stick you in a dumpster." He gave Matthew a bright grin, the one he sometimes gave to Matthew out of pity. Of course it was pity. It _wasn't_ that the kid reminded him of Alfred with none of the annoying heroic traits. And it _wasn't_ that Matthew was a million times cuter than Alfred.

With a sigh, he eyed the door leading to Alfred's room. "…Do you think your bro can handle wearing glasses? I think the idiot'll just wind up breaking them." He groaned. He sounded SO not awesome. Hell, he didn't even know why he felt so drained other than the fact that he had been in a brawl with a psycho before the cops showed up and she ran, leaving him to take the blame. Thankfully, Ludwig had bailed him and explained that, while Gilbert was stupid, he wasn't THAT stupid, and by "that stupid" he meant beating the hell out of someone, then breaking his own arm.

Yes, he was definitely blaming the psycho with the pipe for his un-awesome shift in attitude. And his broken arm. He looked at Matthew. "Do you think I'd get in trouble if I tracked the bitch down and kicked her ass for breakin' the awesome me's arm?"

Matthew flushed, and tried a bit harder to _not_ look like an easy target for bulling. He somehow doubted that it worked, but he didn't mind. He was more distracted by Gilbert's weird contradictory behavior and words. The Canadian doubted he'd ever be able to understand what was going through the albino's mind.

Matthew was torn between the thought of Alfred wearing glasses being funny and being sad. He hated himself a little because of the former. "I...don't really think he'll be able to wear them without breaking them. I mean, I break mine all the time and I'm much more careful," he mumbled, and touched his glasses nervously. Actually, he was pretty sure that the reason why his glasses always seemed to break was because he was cursed. He'd be knocked down and they'd break, a door would open in his face and they'd break, a stray basketball would hit him in the face and they'd break. And usually the excuse was "I didn't see you there". Matthew shook his head slightly to dispel his negative thoughts.

He gave Gilbert a surprised look, partially from what the albino had asked and partially from being lost in his own thoughts and almost missing the question. Matthew shook his head and frowned with concern. "I don't think you should do that. I mean, you were almost in trouble before and you'd definitely get into a lot more trouble if you actually did something..." The Canadian shuffled his feet, hoping that Gilbert hadn't been asked a rhetorical question, because that'd make him look like an idiot for answering it.

Gilbert scowled. "Careful?" He snickered a bit. Yeah, Matthew was careful all right, at least until someone forgot he was there. Now that he was thinking about it, why was it that he was the only one that noticed Alfred's younger twin? He gave Matthew a dirty look. "Pancake Boy, you'd get hit by a car even if you looked both ways fifteen times." He sighed, looking at the door to Alfred's room once more. He could hear Alfred laughing and talking loudly, so it was obvious that the American was alive and fine at least and, as much as it killed him, happy with Ivan.

"…I think Alfred'll have a better chance of keeping his glasses intact than you, Mr. Invisible. At least he doesn't have people running into him." He didn't sound angry, just apathetic, crimson eyes betraying nothing. He pushed away from the wall and walked past Matthew, pausing for a second. He felt like such a girl now.

"Lets go see that idiot of a brother of yours. And his boyfriend." He grinned teasingly at Matthew. "Maybe we can scare Hero-Boy into thinking you're datin' the big bad wolf." With the idea of tormenting Alfred (and Matthew by default) in mind, he let out a maniacal little laugh, the one that said that he was thinking of less-than-legal things.

Or a new practical joke.

Matthew frowned and glared at the ground instead of the person who insulted him. _You don't have to rub it in my face._ Sometimes he wished he could be more assertive...or less invisible. Either one would be good. Then the Canadian heard Gilbert say something about dating and he gave the albino a confused look which slowly turned incredulous. When Matthew realized the full implications of what Gilbert had said, he blushed brightly and shook his head quickly. "W-what?! N-n-no! T-that's a terrible idea!" The Canadian stuttered and became more nervous when Gilbert laughed. _I must really be cursed or something._

Gilbert grinned a bit at Matthew. "Oh, you, Pancake Boy, are no fun." He sighed, leaning against the wall and slumping to sit on the floor, sulking. Why did he have to be stuck sitting there with such a goody-goody? No wonder Alfred had such a hero complex with such an accident-prone brother. "Fine, fine…you try lightening the mood and you're dubbed the town villain…how un-awesome." He yawned and rubbed at his broken arm, swearing a bit. He really hated being out of commission like this, and especially being unable to track the bitch down to give her what for…sadly, he didn't feel like being shoved in the police station holding cell with god only knew what sort of scum.

And he also didn't feel like getting yelled at by Ludwig again. There was only so much a box of wurst could fix before the box started being used as a weapon against the albino.

Matthew looked at the ground guiltily. He hadn't meant to pin Gilbert with some kind of "villain" tag or hurt his feelings or whatever. He was just a bit..._surprised_ by Gilbert's...suggestion. Or idea of fun or whatever. The Canadian noticed the albino rubbing his injured arm and he felt even worse for making Gilbert out to be the "villain". After all, what kind of villain saved someone they didn't like just because? "I'm sorry," Matthew mumbled, kicking the ground awkwardly.

Gilbert scoffed. "Don't apologize!" He ordered, looking sharply at Matthew. "That's why everyone walks all over you! 'Sides…it was more of a compliment than an insult. Better that everyone thinks I'm an asshole than a nice guy." He chuckled, closing his eyes and slapping the floor beside him. "Sit down and stop fussing. Or go in and make sure the Russian isn't strangling him with that scarf of his."

Matthew frowned slightly.. Russian? He knew that Alfred had been talking to someone but now that he thought about it, Matthew didn't know exactly _who_ his brother was chatting with. ...Now that he thought about it, didn't Gilbert say something about Alfred having a boyfriend? Matthew was quite sure that Alfred had never told him about having a boyfriend...The Canadian's frown deepened when he tried to put two and two together.

First, Alfred had an apparently secret boyfriend. Second, the mystery boyfriend was apparently abusive. Unless Gilbert was joking, but Matthew couldn't really tell with Gilbert. "A-are you kidding?" He asked nervously and edged to the door in case the albino said that he wasn't. Because then Matthew would have to save his brother from the clutches of some Russian guy.

Gilbert blinked at Matthew. Alfred _seriously_ hadn't told his brother about it? Now he felt like an idiot. Not only was he an idiot, but he was probably going to be a dead idiot if Arthur caught wind of this. He closed his eyes again, wondering just how much fun he could have with this. Sadly, all that came to mind was a brotherly spat and Ivan beating him with a faucet pipe for starting the fight. _I don't need a broken skull to go along with this arm._ He thought, about ready to hide under a rock and never come out if Matthew got the wrong idea.

Shaking his head, he sighed. "All right, obviously Alfred didn't want you to know, or the idiot just forgot. Either way, yes, the awesome me is almost a hundred percent certain that he has a boyfriend, and I think that if Ivan ever hit him, he'd hit back just as hard. So since neither of them are dead yet, I'm assuming the Russian prick's not abusive to him, just everyone else." He opened his eyes, watching Matthew's expression.

Matthew shuffled his feet, still worried. What did Gilbert mean by "just everyone else"? He wanted to ask, but he didn't want to sound too prying or anything, so he settled on keeping quiet. He could just ask Alfred later anyway. "Oh, okay then," he mumbled, looking at the ground. He tried to think of something to say so they wouldn't fall into an awkward silence, but the only thing his mind came up with was the weather.

Gilbert chuckled. "You worry too much. Sit down and relax, kid. Alfred's fine." He grabbed the hem of Matthew's shirt, tugging him down beside him. He yawned, slouching a bit. It was obvious he was tired, having strained himself between saving Alfred, being arrested, and being dragged by Ivan. Honestly, even he was amazed he was still awake with no sign of sleeping any time soon regardless of how much he needed it.

Maybe he was a little worried too. After all, Matthew and Ivan hadn't seen it…He dropped his gaze to his broken arm, closing his eyes. Truthfully, he had been scared, seeing Alfred unmoving and bloody on the pavement…He shook his head, patting Matthew's hand lightly. "Your brother's in good hands, Pancake Boy…if he's anything like Ludwig, he'd be pretty pissed off if you fuss over him too much."

Matthew gave Gilbert a weak smile and nodded. "I guess you're right," he said, but he was still going to worry about Alfred anyway. He'd just have to find a way to make it less obvious, it seemed. The Canadian played with the sleeves of his hoodie, occasionally glancing at the albino out of the corner of his eye. When Matthew really thought about it, Gilbert had been hurt too. Not nearly as bad, but still... "Um, h-how are_ you_ feeling?" He asked politely, hoping that Gilbert wouldn't get annoyed at him or something.

Gilbert blinked at the Canadian curiously, trying to figure out if he was just hearing things or if someone had actually _asked_ how he was feeling. He decided that, with as nice and syrupy-sweet as Matthew could be (outside of the hockey rink anyway), he probably had heard correctly, and smiled a bit. Not that he would _ever_ admit to smiling like a normal sane person or anything. He cleared his throat, wiping the momentary smile off his face. "Heh…the awesome me is totally awesome! I feel like I could take on the world! Because I'm just _that_ awesome!" He proclaimed.

He looked away from Matthew, rubbing at the back of his neck. "…Thanks for asking." He blushed and waved his hand dismissively. "Not that the awesome me _needed_ a pancake-loving Canadian to worry, but it's better than Ludwig's, 'What did you do this time' thing. That's all. I'm not…_thankful_ or anything." Which was exactly why he had _thanked_ Matthew. It became painfully obvious that, despite Gilbert's bravado and ego, he was, indeed, still human, or at least capable of being thankful for something other than food.

"Don't…tell _anyone_ that I thanked you, got it, Pancake boy? Or I'm coming over to your house everyday and demanding pancakes." He threatened, despite the fact that he did that already.

Matthew chuckled and shook his head. "But Gilbert, you do that anyway," he said, smiling a bit. Sometimes Gilbert could be so funny. Though, even though he wasn't sure if the albino was being completely honest about feeling "awesome", Matthew was still glad that he at least _seemed_ like his normal self. And he was a bit glad that Gilbert had thanked him, even though he didn't really think that being concerned about someone's health was something to be thankful for..

The Canadian brought his knees up to his chest and glanced at Alfred's door. He wondered if his brother was okay, but he didn't want to pester Gilbert about it, especially since he had told him not to worry. _...I wish I had Kumajiro with me. Then maybe I wouldn't feel so antsy..._

Gilbert chuckled. "Yeah, guess I do. But only because your pancakes are fucking _awesome_. Like me." He grinned like the cocky idiot he was. He studied Matthew's face, watching the worry in the Canadian's eyes and sighed. Of course Matthew was going to continue to worry until Alfred decided he was done fawning over his boyfriend. He scowled slightly. _Damn it…Alfred has no freaking clue how lucky he is to have someone worry about him._ He reached out, hesitated, then gently nudged Matthew's cheek with his knuckles.

"He's lucky, you know. To have a brother that worries." His smile fell, his expression distant. He kind of wished that Ludwig worried more about him than he actually did, but he didn't mind too much. After all, Gilbert caused trouble daily, and Ludwig always had to fix up the mess so it was only natural that Ludwig got sick of him and, eventually, he'd stop caring all together. He shook his head to dismiss that depressing thought. "Not that Ludwig doesn't worry, because the stiff does nothing _but_ worry."

[---]

Ivan rolled his eyes and snorted. "Yes, since the Ring girl wants to eat your face. And don't start crying," he mumbled and gracelessly rolled off the American. He stood up and looked around the room, trying to locate Alfred's cell phone. After he found it, he blindly tossed it onto the bed while trying to remember who Matty was. _Oh yeah, his brother. ...He was here?_ Ivan tried to remember seeing anyone who had physical similarities, but came up with a blank. Had he missed him? Maybe Alfred just had one of those weird sibling mental-psychic thingies and knew that his brother was nearby or something.

Pleased by his own answer, Ivan opened the door, prepared to go and search for this semi-mysterious "Matty". He closed the door and spotted Gilbert sitting on the ground next to some blushing blond that he had almost missed seeing (somehow). "Hello Gilbert," he greeted civilly. He glanced at the blond and smiled slightly. _Strange, he looks a bit like Alfred...oh wait._ Ivan's smile grew slightly and he cocked his head to the side childishly. "Ah? Are you 'Matty'?" He asked, a creepy childish tone seeping into his voice. He had to make "good" first impressions and all.

The blond nodded a bit and mumbled something along the lines of "My name is Matthew, nice to meet you". Or maybe it was more like "My name is Matthew, I guess you're that guy who's apparently dating my brother", but Ivan couldn't tell. Matthew seemed to talk so _quietly_, quite unlike Alfred.

The Russian smiled and rocked on his heels. "Ah, that's good. Alfred has been asking for you. Actually, he was asking for _anyone other_ than me, which was odd, because he when he first saw me, he started to cry tears of _joy_. Or maybe terror, I'm not entirely sure, kol kol kol," he said in a childish voice and ended with his slightly horrific laugh. _Just because I like Alfred doesn't mean that his family members are going to be spared._

Matthew's eyes widened and a panicked look crossed over his face. He brushed past the Russian and opened Alfred's door. "Alfred?! A-are you okay?" He asked, distressed. The Canadian noticed how beat up his brother looked and he felt awful and a bit like crying, but then suddenly more panicked. _Alfred was left alone with-with that_ guy_ when he was like _this_? _Matthew was more than slightly fearful what his brother's boyfriend did to him while he was so defenseless, but Alfred actually didn't look too upset....

The Canadian shuffled closer with a nervous and confused face on.. "Um, hi Al. A-are you okay? I mean, I know you aren't obviously, but I mean with that s-scary guy here and all and I wasn't sure if how you were doing. Not that I'm saying your b-boyfriend is bad or anything, it's just that he seems kinda, you know, i-intimidating I guess would be the best word for it..." he stopped rambling abruptly when he realized he sounded slightly like an idiot.

Gilbert glared at Ivan, but resisted the urge to say anything, as that would be _nice_ and Gilbert _liked_ being considered an asshole. He stood and shuffled closer to the door, leaning against the wall beside it and listening carefully while giving Ivan his best, "you fucker" look.

Alfred grinned tiredly at the blur that was, judging from the shape and voice volume, Matthew. Who was this "scary" guy that his brother was rambling about? The word "boyfriend" sunk in and he blushed a bit, looking away. Somehow, he felt this was all Ivan's fault. Did the Russian have to go around scaring _everyone_? He turned back to his brother and reached out, motioning for Matthew to come closer. "You dork." He said teasingly. "Ivan's not that scary. He's just a big teddy bear that likes to _think_ he's scary."

He said the last part loud enough for Ivan to hear him, a playful grin on his face. He stuck his tongue out at the open doorway, then glanced back at his twin. Matthew looked like a wreck, and Alfred suddenly felt guilty. He should have told Ivan to get Matthew earlier, maybe then his brother wouldn't have worried so much…"Matty, I'm fine, really. Ivan didn't hurt me, and I'm sure I'll be out of here in no time." He grabbed Matthew's hand, smiling kindly, his gaze apologetic. "Sorry I made you and Arty worry…and I'm sorry I almost broke my promise."

He scooted over and motioned for Matthew to sit with his bandaged hand. His expression turned pained. Not physically, but emotionally. The last time the two of them had been in the hospital was back then, when they watched the doctors pronounce their parents dead…"I'm sorry, Matty…I guess I'm still as shitty a hero now as I was back then…I couldn't even keep you from worrying about me…you can forgive me, right?"

Gilbert frowned a bit, leaning closer to the door. _Back then?_ He wondered, glancing at Ivan to see if the Russian had any idea what was going on. "Back then?" He finally whispered. "What's he mean by that? Does the idiot make it a habit to be hospitalized?"

Matthew refrained from rolling his eyes. He doubted that Ivan was remotely related to a teddy bear, and he would know. He owned one, after all. And judging by the Russian's unimpressed snort, he didn't really agree much with Alfred's statement either. The Canadian idly wondered if he should be concerned by his brother's idea of a "teddy bear".

The American surprised Matthew by suddenly becoming serious. He frowned and sat down on the edge of the bed with a concerned look. He listened to Alfred and he bit his lip. "Alfred...of course I can forgive you for worrying me. I mean, it's not that hard to do," he said with a weak smile. Matthew sighed, dropped his poor attempt of a smile and stared at his and Alfred's hands. "But Alfred? I...I really wish you would stop being so hard on yourself...It's not like it was your fault," he said quietly. The Canadian really hated how depressing the mood had gotten, but he knew that since Alfred had brought _that_ up, it probably wouldn't go away for quite some time.

Ivan frowned, wondering what the brothers were talking about that made the atmosphere so bleak. He heard Gilbert and, while he didn't say anything, was worried about the same thing. The Russian would probably become as stressed out as Toris. He managed to hear Matthew say something about Alfred's fault and Ivan wondered even more what they were talking about.

Alfred gave his brother's hand a comforting squeeze, though he had a feeling that it was more for his own comfort than Matthew's. "Yeah…I'll try." He forced himself to sit up despite the fact his muscles were yelling at him to just lay there and go to sleep.. Now that he was closer, he could make out his brother's expression, and felt even worse. Not only had he caused Matthew and Arthur trouble – again – but he had brought _that_ up without really meaning to.

He hugged Matthew, putting his head against his twin's and smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "Let's stop talkin' about that, 'kay?" he butted his forehead lightly against Matthew's, looking happy. "So Ivan scared you, huh? I'll make sure to kick his ass later, all right? He can't resist the cute that is Alfred F. Jones' puppy-dog eyes." He laughed a bit, tightening his grip on Matthew for a moment. "…Sorry I never told you about him. But we just started dating, what, today?"

Alfred grinned, and it was obvious that, despite whatever it was that Ivan claimed to have done, he really did like the man. Well, maybe "like" wasn't strong enough of a word. He sighed, as if knowing that Matthew wouldn't believe his earlier statement of Ivan's inability to resist his heroic cuteness. "…Matty? He makes me happy…and he makes me forget all the bad stuff that used to give me nightmares. You can respect that, right…? I need to know if you can accept who I've decided…to date." He gave Matthew a pleading look, his expression betraying just how tired he was after the day's events.

Gilbert gave Ivan a look, one that said, "tell me now or else" as he whispered, "Are you gonna mug Alfred or Pancake Boy for the info? If so, you better fucking tell me what it is…on second thought, I'll mug Pancake Boy for it later." He watched the twins interact for several more minutes before turning away, deciding that the juicy parts had passed and there was little to no new information to gain. Unless it was to see Matthew bitch out Alfred for his _obviously_ horrible boyfriend.

Matthew gave a meek smile in return, but he doubted a scary guy like Ivan would relent for a cute face. Actually, he seemed more like the type to torture cute things for fun. _Is Alfred into those "dangerous" types? Like those girls who date criminals? Oh god..._Though the Canadian was a bit surprised when he found out they had only been dating for less than twenty-four hours, what with how Ivan actually came to the hospital. Matthew had heard stories about someone would get put into the hospital and their new boy/girlfriend would dump them because of stress or disinterest or whatever.

The Canadian was surprised (once again) by how serious his brother had become. He never would have thought that Alfred would actually want approval from him when it came to dating. "O-of course I can accept it! Even if he is kinda, um, scary, he still seems okay, I guess. And if you trust him, then I guess I can too," he said and gave Alfred a slight smile. _...I'm still keeping an eye on him._ Even though Matthew was willing to respect his brother's judgment, he still thought that Ivan seemed to be the type to just randomly go on a killing spree.

Ivan sent a slight glare over at Gilbert, but still mumbled an "Okay". He actually hadn't planned on asking Alfred, or Matthew for that matter, anything. Sure, he was curious, but he could understand the need for privacy when it came to things in the past or personal life.. He certainly wouldn't want Alfred to force any information about say, Natalia, for instance. No, he certainly wouldn't want the American to ever know about _that._ Actually, he would prefer that no one ever found out about Natalia. So, with that in mind, Ivan decided that he wasn't going to drill the brothers for information. _If Gilbert wants to know, he can ask himself. That asshole._

Alfred grinned like an idiot, obviously pleased with Matthew's reply. Which, of course, made the next part easier to say. He clapped his brother on the back excitedly and said, "That's great, Matty! Awesome! Now, you can keep this from Arthur so he doesn't have a heart attack!" He looped an arm around Matthew's shoulders, giving his twin a slight hug, looking happy. Truthfully, he didn't expect Matthew to keep something this big a secret from their older brother, as the Brit was just as nosy as Alfred and ten times more intimidating to the twins despite the fact that he was a rather scrawny British man with a fondness for sweater-vests..

Besides, knowing Arthur, the Brit already knew and was just waiting for Alfred to get out of the hospital before yelling at him.

"Hey, tell Arthur that I'm fine, okay? I don't need him worrying any more than he already is." He smiled a bit. "Oh yeah! How're you doing? I mean, you look like a nervous wreck from what I can tell…" He looked apologetic, but happy nonetheless. It was also obvious that he was trying to avoid being left alone there.

Gilbert blinked a bit, startled, when a nurse walked past him and Ivan and into Alfred's room and cleared her throat, giving Alfred a look of a displeased mother. "Visiting hours are over, Mr. Jones." He opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when she glared at him. Apparently he didn't even need to see her clearly to get the idea, as he let his arm fall from Matthew's shoulders and mumbled nervously about ghosts and such. "I have four children, Mr. Jones. That look does nothing but make me want to put you in time out."

He bit his tongue and shifted so he laying back down, obviously not pleased. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, Nurse Mom…" He gave Matthew a weak smile. "I'll see ya tomorrow, 'kay? Just don't skip school or anything, all right? Arthur'll blame me for it if you do. And bring a cheeseburger, please?" he put his hands together, giving his brother a pleading look. "Please, please, _please_? A cheeseburger or two would be awesome."

The nurse sighed. "No outside food or drink. Now, all of you," she made "shoo" motions to Matthew, Ivan, and Gilbert. "Out. Mr. Jones needs his rest if he expects to be released any time soon." Alfred groaned, letting his head drop back onto the too-flat pillow and looking depressed. Gilbert scoffed, but gave the American a departing wave, thankful that the blonde couldn't see it properly.

Matthew gave his brother a slightly annoyed and mostly disbelieving look. How could Alfred ask that? He _knew_ what Arthur was like. And while Alfred could usually lie to Arthur without batting an eye, one look from the Brit was enough for Matthew to spew every little detail and then some. _I guess I'll just have to try my best then. _The Canadian sighed and glanced at Ivan, who seemed slightly concerned about something. Probably that Arthur would "have a heart attack" if he found out him and Alfred were dating.

Before Matthew could reply to the American, a nurse came in informing them that visiting hours were over. The Canadian had to stifle a laugh at what the nurse said, because it might seem he was laughing at Alfred's discomfort and that would be mean. He smiled slightly at his brother's request and gave him a quick farewell hug before standing up. _Yeah, I'm so not bringing you food if it's going against hospital policy. _He gave the nurse a polite nod before hurried after Gilbert. He gave Ivan a fleeting and curious glance when he noticed that the Russian hadn't moved from his spot, but he shook his head and kept going. He didn't want to cause any problems for the staff, after all.

Ivan waited until both Gilbert and Matthew were out of sight and, ignoring the glare the nurse was giving him, walked over to Alfred. He leaned down and gave the American a kiss on the cheek. "I will see you tomorrow, da?" He said, loud enough for the nurse to hear, then he whispered, "Please try to forget about any spooks tonight, da? I don't want to have to break into the hospital at two in the morning, as it is against the law, you see." He was joking of course, but not really. It would certainly look bad to Alfred's family if he was put into jail, after all.

The Russian pulled away and, after giving the unimpressed woman a polite smile, followed after Gilbert and Matthew.

Alfred smiled a bit, rubbing at the cheek that Ivan had kissed as if to imbed it into both his skin and memory. Maybe tonight he could stand to be alone…sadly, before the nurse left, he begged her to leave the lights on and, much to his joy, she agreed.

He snuggled deeper into his too-thin blankets and sighed, staring at the ceiling. _I hope I can get outta here soon…I doubt they'll let me keep the lights on every night I'm here._ He sighed, then smiled to himself. _Heh…Ivan would break into a hospital for me? He's so cool._

[1] My dear


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N - **kljdshfg UGH! Sorry it's been so long! For a while there it looked like the fic was dead, eh? It's not! So don't worry. Our lives have just been a touch hectic lately, but the fic's still going. Slowly, but it's going at least! Anyway, disclaimer time! We don't own Hetalia or its characters!

Enjoy, and read and review please! Thanks ahead of time to all of our loyal readers, and once more, we're very sorry it took so long for this update! Hopefully the next update won't be as long a wait! Oh, yeah. Something I failed to mention (though you guys are smart, so you probably already figured this out): those numbers at the bottom of some of the chapters are translation notes for Ivan's Russian phrases. It's probably pretty obvious, but I just wanted to get that all cleared up before I forgot.

**Chapter Six**

"Yeeeeeees!" Alfred stretched his arms over his head, his broken hand still, well, broken, but it had healed up nicely considering he was only in the hospital for three days. During that time, he had succeeded in giving two nurses heart attacks when they came in and saw him doing one-handed push-ups, he had nearly strangled the doctor that tried shutting off the lights, and he had been – literally – put in time out by the apparently mother of four. And that wasn't counting the ear-full he had gotten from Arthur before the Brit broke down into tears.

He glanced over when a small European car – steering wheel on the wrong side and everything – pulled up and Arthur climbed out, dressed in a casual long-sleeved shirt, sweater vest, and a tan coat that was quite flattering on his slim figure. Arthur gave him a relieved look, leaning on the roof of his too-short car. "Glad to see you're alive." He said, trying to force the smile from his lips even though his brother couldn't see it. Alfred grinned, shoving his hands into his bomber jacket's pockets and rocking on his heels.

"Da~" He chirped happily. He paused, then groaned. "Damn it, I'm picking up his verbal tics now." Arthur gave him a suspicious look.

"_Whose_ verbal tics?"

Alfred laughed nervously. _Oh shit._ He cleared his throat, looking up at the blue sky. Well, as much as he could anyway. It more or less looked like some weird blue and white blob with the occasional gray thing that was probably a bird. He blinked when he was yanked down to Arthur's height, the Brit having walked over while he was occupied, and grimaced when something was shoved onto his face.

Everything snapped into focus. The sky, the street, Arthur's face, and the car as well as it's wrongly-placed steering wheel. He gave Arthur a smile, though it was weak. "Heh…my glasses came in already?" Arthur released his shirt and backed up a step, looking away in an attempt to hide his embarrassed expression.

"…I'm sorry…I wish I had the money to repair your sight." Arthur whispered, rubbing his arm nervously. "It seems I can't—" He blinked when he was pulled into a tight hug by his brother, who smiled sadly.

"It's cool, bro…if I wanna fly, I'll find a way. It doesn't have to be a jet."

"But your dreams…!"

Alfred shrugged a bit, releasing Arthur. "Yeah…I'll just find a new one." He wasn't sure what kind of thing he could do now since all of his classes had been geared toward his future military career, but he was certain he'd figure something out. He was a hero after all. "Why're you here? To deliver my glasses?" Arthur looked at Alfred's face, trying to see if Alfred was really as okay as he said he was. Sadly, Alfred was good at hiding his feelings behind a smile, the same smile that was currently plastered on his face.

"I was wondering if you needed a lift back to school…and if you wanted to get a bit of food. Not that I'm w-wanting to spend time with my idiot little brother that nearly got killed by some crazy person! That's not it at all!" Arthur kicked at the ground with the toe of his shoe, scowling at the pavement.

Alfred rubbed at his neck. Well, it wasn't like he couldn't just call Ivan and tell him not to come. Besides, this was important! Arthur, who he had been on rocky terms with until recently, was offering him a ride. _And_ food! Alfred smiled happily, laughing. "Sounds good. Lemme just make a quick phone call, 'kay? I'll be there in a sec."

He walked a few feet away from Arthur and pulled out his cell phone, pressing speed dial 4. Alfred rocked on his heels as he listened to the phone ring, humming to himself while he waited for Ivan to pick up.

Arthur edged closer, curious as to why his brother had moved away from him to make a phone call. Was he trying to keep a secret from him?

[---]

Ivan gave Toris a smile which the brunet meekly returned. Toris was, amazingly, not scared to death to see Ivan on his way to visit Feliks. The Lithuanian had noticed a subtle change in Ivan the past few days. First off, the Russian's scary aura seemed to ebb away for the most part, which was not only a relief to Toris, but to most people who were forced to come in contact with Ivan. Another change was that Ivan seemed to give more pleasant smiles than his usual "I will slowly torture you and enjoy it" smiles, another relief to the general population. And the most wonderful change, for Toris at least, was that Ivan had _finally _stopped stalking him.

When the brunet had mentioned it to Ivan, the Russian had said something about following his "_dorogoy_" around after he got out of the hospital. Toris had been a little concerned for this person at first, but Ivan had practically skipped away while humming some cheerful tune and Toris felt that the Russian (for once) had no hidden motives or feelings behind his words. And though Ivan still had his scary moments, Toris truly hoped that the Russian would continue to act like this. It was almost as if the sun shone brighter or something.

Toris cleared his throat. "Ah, hello Ivan. Nice day today, isn't it?" He said politely. The Russian nodded in agreement.

"Da. It is a very nice day."

Toris was almost amazed that Ivan could actually have a normal conversation. "Yeah...so, um, where are you planning to do today?" The brunet asked, only mildly concerned that he'd be late to see Feliks. Ivan gave a normal smile and put his finger to his chin in mock-thought.

"Well, I was planning on a trip to the hospital today. Then maybe to McDonald's, even if it does taste disgusting."

Toris frowned slightly. "Um, why would you go there if you don't like the food?"

The Russian shrugged his shoulders but still smiled. "Because my _dorogoy_ likes the food," he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Toris gave a quiet sigh, but before he could ask Ivan something else, said Russian's phone started to ring. Ivan pulled it out and his smile grew when he saw who it was. He pressed the 'talk' button and held it up to his ear. "_Zdravstvooytye, moy dorogoy. Kak dyela?__1_ How are you?" He asked cheerfully.

Toris gave the phone an amazed look when he realized that whoever made Ivan not nearly as horrifying was on the other. Then the brunet wondered if the mystery person even understood half of the stuff coming out of Ivan's mouth at times.

[---]

Alfred gave the phone a dirty look, then said, a smile on his face, "You know, I have no freaking clue what you just said. I know _moy_ means, 'my' so…I'm learning." He grinned, blushing a bit. Truthfully, he always liked how Ivan's voice changed when he spoke his natural language, but that didn't make not understanding a word of it any better. He was losing his nerve now, though. Ivan sounded so happy to hear from him…"You sound happy. What, did you think Nurse Mom was gonna kill me for being a pain in the ass?" He asked, tone joking.

Arthur stared at the back of Alfred's head, shocked. Never before had he heard such a _truly _happy tone in his precious little brother's voice, and for a moment he wondered if maybe _he_ had been the one struck by the pipe instead of Alfred. After all, who in God's name could Alfred be talking to that would make him that happy? He jumped when Alfred turned to him, one hand over the mouth piece of the phone. "Hey, Arty. Can I bring my roommate? You'll hardly know he's there."

"U-um…" Arthur tried to speak, but was cut off by Alfred.

"Sweet! Thanks, Arty. We'll have dinner tonight, just you and me, okay?" Alfred's smile was so happy, a drastic change from the last time Alfred had smiled at him…back then, it had looked so sad and broken…Arthur sighed. There was no way he could say no to that face, especially after everything that had happened.

The Brit smiled softly. "All right. As long as you keep your bloody promise this time!"

Alfred's already cheerful expression brightened even more and he turned away and proclaimed, "Hey, Ivan, wanna get some lunch with me and my older bro? I think we need to talk to him about, you know, _that thing_? And I don't think I can handle it alone. Is that okay? And we'll be there to pick you up shortly! Um…where're you at anyway?" Alfred was giving the phone his best puppy-dog face, even though Ivan certainly couldn't see it.

Arthur frowned a bit, irritated. He really wished Alfred wouldn't keep secrets, and he _really_ wished Alfred would let people get a word in edge-wise. What if this "Ivan" person didn't want to eat with Alfred and his stuffy older brother? "Alfred, give the bloke a chance to answer before you go assuming things, you twit." Alfred waved a hand at him to dismiss his words, earning him a disgruntled growl in reply.

[---]

Ivan's smile turned into more of a smirk, thinking about Alfred actually learning Russian. He somehow doubted that the American would really be able to get the language down, but he had to admit, the idea of _his_ Alfred speaking _his_ language was absolutely adorable. "Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of her paddling you. That would be far more amusing," he said, his voice full of sadistic joy. Toris visibly shivered, but the Russian ignored him.

Then, it sounded like Alfred was talking with someone else and Ivan was curious as to what was being said. Then the younger blond started to talk all at once about lunch and brothers and Ivan gave the phone a slightly confused look. _"That thing"? What thing? Ooh, wait a second. _That_ thing. Oh yes._ Ivan wasn't really sure he was properly prepared to meet Alfred's older brother. He had a feeling that Arthur wasn't very much like Matthew.

"Yes, yes, it's fine. It has to be done eventually, da?" Ivan glanced at the ground in thought. "I'm on campus right now, but I'll go to our room, since you_ probably_ won't get lost," he said with a joking tone. "I'll head over there right now. _Da svidanya_," the Russian said and hung up, not worried if it annoyed Alfred. He turned to Toris with a slightly concerned look on his face. "Toris, may I...ask for some advice?"

The brunet gave Ivan an incredulous look and slowly nodded his head. "O-of course."

Ivan smiled slightly. "Well you see, I am about to meet my boyfriend's older brother for the first time and I am worried as to how I should act," Ivan paused as Toris looked almost as if he'd have a heart attack from shock. Probably at the "my boyfriend" part. The Russian's smile grew slightly. "Normally, I would act as I always do. To leave a good first impression." Toris snorted, but the Russian continued, unperturbed, "But I don't want the older brother against me. That could be...problematic. And it might upset _moy dorogoy_. What should I do, friend Toris?"

The Lithuanian seemed to mentally debate for a minute, then he finally gave a meek smile. "I think...you should be y-yourself," he said finally, though it sounded more like a question than a suggestion. Toris instantly wished he had something else when the Russian's face suddenly started to glow with an evil aura (at least that's what the brunet described it as).

"That's a wonderful idea Toris! I knew I could count on you for a good answer," Ivan glanced at his phone to check the time, then back to the Toris, "I had best be going, or I might be late. Bye-bye, Toris~" Ivan said, his voice turning into it's usual creepy childish tone.

As the Russian walked away, the Lithuanian shook his head. "Oh, what have I just set on that man's boyfriend and older brother? God, I'm an idiot..."

[---]

Alfred grinned brightly, then scowled at the phone when the line suddenly went dead. God, he hated it when Ivan did that. It was always so annoying, and it always made him want to kick his ass…sadly, by the time they met again, he had already forgotten his anger between eating and napping. He grumbled and shut the phone, turning back to Arthur, who was staring at him suspiciously. "What?"

"What do you mean by 'that thing?'" Arthur inquired, tapping his foot and crossing his arms. For a scrawny British man in a sweater-vest, Alfred had to admit that he was very intimidating.

He laughed nervously, trying to figure out what to tell his brother. Drawing a blank, he sighed, grin falling to a pout. "Hey, hey. I'll tell you over lunch. Lets swing by the dorms, grab my roommate, and then we'll explain everything. Trust me."

Arthur sighed, giving his brother a dirty look. "The last time you told me that, I wound up getting my bloody hand stuck in a jar, you naff git."

Alfred walked calmly to the car, smiling charmingly at his fuming brother. "You got it unstuck, right?" Arthur huffed, but didn't protest. After several more minutes of bickering, pleading, and whining, they finally got moving, the small European car puttering along the street with two arguing siblings in the front seat.

Eventually, they pulled up in front of the dorms, and Alfred hopped out of the car, smiling at Arthur. Arthur glared back at him, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "Be right back. Don't run over anyone, okay?" Alfred slapped the roof of the car lightly, careful not to dent it, then closed the door and ran off to fetch Ivan before Arthur went on a killing spree.

Arthur scoffed, slouching in his seat. He gave Alfred's retreating figure a worried look, sighing sadly. "Alfred…what trouble have you gotten yourself into this time…?"

Alfred skidded to a stop in front of the door to his dorm, grinning like an idiot as he pounded on the door. "Hey, hey! Ivan! We're here! C'mon, other wise Arty's gonna run someone over." He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels, smiling cheerfully, as though Arthur running people over was a daily thing. Which, considering how irritable his brother was, he honestly wouldn't be too surprised.

Ivan had debated on clearing the room, on the off chance that Arthur would actually see it. After picking up a hamburger wrapper and throwing it back on the ground, Ivan had decided that Arthur probably wouldn't even see their room and that cleaning could wait another day. The Russian then heard Alfred, and he opened the door. He was strangely relieved that Arthur wasn't present. Though he wondered if 'run someone over' thing was a joke or not.

Ivan leaned down and gave Alfred a quick kiss on the lips. "Hey there you. Ready to face the music?" He asked with a chuckle. Actually, Alfred was probably more ready than he was, but he wasn't about to let anyone know that. The Russian was about to grab the American's hand, but then realized that that probably wouldn't be the _best_ idea. The plan was to tell Arthur at a more opportune time, not while walking to the car. Ivan frowned slightly and dropped his hand to his side, dejected.

He began walking down the hallway, and swore he heard the death march playing from somewhere. Maybe it was that Austrian kid? _How encouraging._

Alfred grinned at the kiss, then adjusted his glasses and ran after Ivan with the energy of a child on an energy drink. He grabbed Ivan's hand and said, "We can hold hands on the way down there! And whaddoya think of my glasses? Arthur picked them out for me after the docs ran some more eye tests and stuff. Apparently I'm near-sighted. Arthur told me it was fitting considering I never look too far ahead…I wonder if he was insulting me? Meh, whatever." He finally stopped chattering, then looked at the floor, smile gone and replaced by an expression nervousness.

He wasn't sure how Arthur would react, actually. With as over-protective as Arthur was, he could only guess the line of questioning Ivan would go through before Arthur deemed him unworthy to date his little brother. Not that Alfred would listen to him if he was told to break up with Ivan. He would just _casually_ bring up Arthur's not-too-legal high school days. That would definitely shut him up.

Alfred bumped his shoulder against Ivan's arm and smiled. "It'll be cool. Arty might be a tight ass most of the time, and he treats me like I'm his kid more than his brother, so just be nice and polite…and you two'll get along great." He looked back ahead of him, not really believing his own words. Oh, Arthur would dislike Ivan just for the sheer fact that he was dating Alfred. In fact, he could already hear the Law & Order interrogation that would ensue the second they told Arthur about the whole, "dating" thing.

Ivan forced a smile, which was quite convincing if he did say so himself. "He probably was. And I think they make you look smarter. I didn't think it was possible," he said with a joking tone, but he didn't really find it all that funny. He had purposely ignored mentioning the glasses because seeing them made an unpleasant feeling grow in the pit of his stomach. Namely, pure anger. Ivan absolutely _hated_ whoever did this to Alfred; attacked him and left a permanent reminder. Ivan would be sure to kill them if he ever met them.

The Russian listened to Alfred and a smirk grew on his face. He recalled Toris's advice and he wasn't about to disregard it. After all, the brunet had a point. He had to be true to himself and others and all of that other jazz. Besides, Arthur would eventually learn of Ivan's true nature, so why not show it off sooner than later? "Oh Alfred...I'm _always_ polite and usually _very_ kind. People just don't seem to believe me," he said with mock sadness.

Ivan noticed that they were about to the front doors. He gave Alfred's hand a kiss and let it go. "I'm sure we'll get along _perfectly~_" Ivan mumbled with a poorly concealed dark tint in his voice.

Alfred grinned playfully as Ivan's joke, giving the Russian a playful punch to the shoulder. "Oh, laugh it up. I'll get you back for that one later." He said teasingly. Of course he looked smart! Everyone with glasses looked smart. Except for the Austrian guy that was always making pianos appear out of thin air. The glasses just kept him from looking plain.

He blushed a bit and rubbed at his knuckles, trying to rub away the lingering feeling of Ivan's lips while trying to not smile like a love-struck idiot. However, all good feelings promptly died when an overly creepy tone graced Ivan's voice. Alfred laughed nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck. _Oh this is going to go _straight_ into the "Arthur's head's going to explode" folder._ He could almost _see_ the shadow fall over the upper half of Ivan's face, and had to suppress a shudder. He _hated_ it when Ivan went all creepy serial killer on him, almost as much as he hated it when Ivan hung up in the middle of a conversation.

He also hated the look that Arthur was giving them as they neared the tiny European car, the scrawny British man leaned against the side of aforementioned car. If life were a cartoon, his eyes probably would have consumed his face when he saw just how _tall_ Ivan was. Arthur looked between Ivan and his car, wondering how in God's name the Russian was going to fit into it without hitting his head every few seconds.

Alfred groaned when he saw Arthur reach in through the window, fumble with something, and shove the passenger seat _back_. He was making Ivan sit up front, probably out of older brother/motherly paranoia. Oh joy.

Arthur gave Alfred a stern look and said once they were close enough to hear him, "Your friend can sit up front."

"Y-yeah, Arty, about that…I don't really think—" Alfred huffed when Arthur cut him off with a disapproving look.

Arthur shook a finger at him in a scolding motion, his other hand on his hip. "No 'buts,' Alfred. It's only polite, you know that. Now hop in the back so we can get going. Heaven knows you'll die if we don't get something in that bottomless pit you call a stomach…"

Alfred groaned, but did as told, shooting Ivan a, "please be _nice_" look before sliding into the backseat behind the driver's seat so he could easily smack Ivan if the Russian did something stupid or scary, the latter of which was more likely than the former. A terrified _driver_ wasn't a good thing. Especially if said driver was already known for his road-rage and was one ticket away from having his license revoked. Alfred closed his eyes, mumbling a quick, "please don't let us die" to whatever God would listen.

His brother rolled his eyes when he caught a glimpse of Alfred's awkward and horrible prayer. "Oh for the love of…just belt up, you twit." Alfred buckled his seatbelt, but continued his prayer. Arthur shook his head, rubbing his forehead. "Not that type of belt up! Well, yes, you did need to do that, but…oh, bugger. Just belt…erm…_shut_ up. We're not going to die."

"But, Arty! Your driving _sucks_!And you sometimes drive on the wrong side of the street…"

Arthur grit his teeth, suddenly wishing he had remembered to put that "tongue tied" curse on Alfred. Maybe then his brother would have been silent for once in his life. "I'm a better driver than you…" he grumbled, doing his best to calm down so as not to embarrass himself in front Alfred's friend. Alfred's very _tall_ friend. He turned his attention to Ivan, doing his best to show that he _wasn't_ intimidated by Ivan's height or the fact that he was build like a refrigerator compared to Arthur.

"Ah…erm…ahem. Yes. I-I'm Arthur Kirkland, Alfred's older brother. Well, um, adopted older brother actually, but…um…y-yes…" He looked away from Ivan nervously, blushing with embarrassment. He was always making a fool out of himself when it came to meeting people. If only he had Alfred's ability to socialize with everything with a pulse. "And you must be his roommate, correct?" He held his hand out stiffly, forcing himself to square his shoulders and make eye contact.

Ivan evaluated Alfred's older brother with a slight smile on his face. _Well, at least I'll never mistake him for either of his siblings. Not with those eyebrows._ The Russian gave Alfred an amused smile before getting into the car (which was strangely harder than he had originally thought it would be). Really, Ivan couldn't understand why Alfred acted like he was going bully his older brother. Ivan would _never_ do something like that. Except only he _would_.

Ivan raised an eyebrow when Alfred began to pray. _Is Arthur's driving _that_ bad?_ It filled the Russian with some concern since he wasn't really in the mood to get into a wreck. He buckled up his seat-belt, just in case. _I wonder if the police stop us if I can just scare them away. ...Nah, Arthur would definitely get a ticket then..._ Not that Ivan actually cared too much about that, but he didn't want to cause the Brit to get a ticket. Those things cost money and there's a difference between scaring the hell out of someone and making them have to pay money. Of course, if he actually had something against Arthur, he wouldn't mind helping him get a ticket, but he didn't so it didn't matter.

Ivan smiled innocently and shook Arthur's hand. "Ah, nice to meet you. I'm Ivan Braginski. And...you can say that," he replied cryptically with a too-innocent tone. He wasn't sure when exactly Alfred wanted to tell his brother the "big news", so the Russian would just stick to ambiguous answers. Ivan let go of the Brit's hand, and glanced at Alfred with a look that said "look how polite and non-creepy I can be aren't you proud well it's not going to last". Oh, Ivan was _so_ going to enjoy messing with the brothers.

Arthur eyed Ivan like one would a serial killer ready to strike, then slid into the driver's seat, buckling up. "…All right, then…it's, erm, nice to meet you, Mr. Braginski." He started the car and looked at Alfred through the rearview mirror, the younger male giving Ivan a worried look. "Ahem." Arthur smiled as pleasantly as he could as they pulled out of the college dorm parking lot, _The Sex Pistols_ playing quietly from the stereo. "So, where do you two want to eat?"

Alfred held up his hand, smiling brightly. "McDonald's!"

"For the love of the Queen, _no_!" Arthur shot his brother a glare. "I don't want to get food poisoning like the last time you dragged me to that horrid place!" Alfred pouted, looking dejectedly out the window. The Brit sighed, turning his attention back to the road with a depressed and tired look crossing his face. "…Since I'm short on funds, our choices are limited, but whatever _our guest_," He stressed that, glancing back at Alfred through the rearview mirror.

Alfred pouted, slouching in his seat and putting his feet on the back of Arthur's seat, looking out the window. "I haven't have a cheeseburger in days, man…so not fair." It was obvious that he was just pushing Arthur's buttons, knowing that eventually the Brit would cave just to get him to shut up. He grinned and leaned forward, putting his head between Arthur's and Ivan's. "Hey, how about _Cheeseburger in Paradise_? I've heard they're really good!"

"Alfred, sit down! Other wise I'll get another blasted ticket!" Arthur snapped, shoving Alfred back into his seat with one hand. He nearly swerved into the next lane, but thankfully managed to avoid the head-on collision with a convertible.

Alfred whistled a bit, waving at the car they had almost hit. "Or a _one-way_ ticket to the hospital." The American commented, sitting back and smiling happily, as if Arthur almost hitting another car was an everyday thing. His brother just grumbled and growled to himself.

Ivan gave the windshield a blank look. Of course Alfred wanted to go to McDonald's. He _always_ wanted to go there. Ivan had known from the start that's where Alfred wanted to go. Ivan was actually a little concerned about Alfred's health along with the health of everyone the American dragged along to that grease and cholesterol death trap. At the rate Alfred was going, he'd have a heart attack before he hit twenty-five.

The Russian raised an eyebrow at Arthur's driving and Alfred's apparent lack of concern about it. Whenever Ivan swerved in front of on-coming cars, it was on purpose. Arthur didn't do it on purpose, and that somehow made it more frightening...for the people in the same car as Arthur. Not those other cars, because they always think you didn't swerve in front of them on purpose. Ivan wondered if it was safer to sit in the front or back seat when dealing with collisions.

He glanced at the back seat to judge how safe it looked. _Looks safer than sitting up here._ Ivan snorted softly and glanced at Alfred. He didn't even look worried in the slightest. Ivan gave the American a small smile. "I don't really mind going to McDonald's, I guess. Whatever you two decide is fine with me," he said, turning away from Alfred so he wouldn't cause Arthur any suspicion.

"Ah-ha! See, Arty? Ivan says we can go to McDonald's, and he's the _guest_ so he's obviously right!" Alfred shouted excitedly, leaning between Arthur and Ivan again despite his brother's protests.

The two siblings bickered for the remainder of the drive, and, as Alfred had predicted, Arthur caved in, though not happily. The moment the car was parked, Alfred was jumping out and running into the biohazard that was McDonald's. Arthur climbed out of the car at a more subdued pace, sighing in dismay. He gripped his stomach as if to tell it to behave, and groaned, "I can't believe I'm even going into this place again…" He waited until Ivan was out before locking the doors, slamming both his and Alfred's doors shut. "Naff idiot couldn't even be bothered to close his own bloody door…"

Alfred poked his head outside and exclaimed loudly, looking more excited than the children in the play-house/death trap did, "C'mon, Ivan! C'mon! Otherwise the old lady with the walker's gonna beat us to the line!" Arthur just rolled his eyes and stomped inside, fishing out his wallet while Alfred motioned for Ivan to hurry up. "What're you gonna get, Ivan? Hey, hey, Arthur! I want two of those Angus burger things! With large fries and a coke! Go one, Ivan, tell Arty whatcha want. He's buying, right?"

"Of course I'm buying…it's not like _you_ ever have money…" Arthur grumbled. Louder, he said, "Alfred, get a table for us, please." Alfred grinned and nodded, running off and dropping into a corner booth, smiling like an idiot.

Ivan smiled at Alfred's overexcited behavior, which was a little weird, since it was _just McDonald's_. It's not like they were eating at a five-star restaurant or anything. The Russian followed the two inside and, after subtly staring at the imposing old woman until she moved away, he stared at the menu. _...Why is everything on here have 'Mc' in it's name? And it all sounds gross._ Ivan stared at the menu with a growing frown, then he glanced at Alfred. "Just...get me a cheeseburger and small Coke, I guess," he said, picking something that sounded normal and non-'Mc'.

Ivan handed Arthur enough money to pay for his (and hopefully Alfred's) food. He wasn't about to let Arthur pay for his food, he could pay for himself. And it was common courtesy to pay for your date's meal, so Ivan wanted to pay for Alfred's food too. But be subtle about it, so the Brit hopefully wouldn't think anything was up yet. The Russian walked over to where Alfred was sitting and plopped down next to the blond.

Alfred smiled at Ivan, then glanced to see if Arthur was looking. Glad that his brother was apparently getting into an argument with the pimply casher and not looking at them, he quickly leaned up and gave Ivan a kiss on the cheek. "Heh. It'll all go smoothly. Trust me, Ivan, 'cause I know Arty, and I know that once he finds out, he'll be fine with it, don't you worry! So don't be so _quiet_! It's kind of creepy and unnerving. He probably thinks you're gonna stab him with a spork or something." He poked Ivan's cheek lightly, smiling brightly despite his own worry.

Arthur would be fine with it, that much he knew. However, it was the yelling, interrogating, and the swearing that would happen before that occurred that had him worried. Arthur, while small in stature, could be intimidating when he wanted to be, and he claimed to see fairies and stuff…Alfred patted Ivan's shoulder reassuringly, even though it was more to reassure himself than anything.

Ivan returned the smile. "But sporks aren't sharp enough, silly," he said innocently. "Sure, if you use enough force you could stab someone with them, but something more naturally sharp would take less effort and be much more effective. If I wanted to stab someone, it'd be with a boning knife. It's a knife used in cooking and it's much thinner than a chef's knife, so it would be easier to stab the fragile organs that are in the rib cage without the knife getting stopped by, well, ribs," he said conversationally. The Russian noticed a mother's horrified expression from a table not too far from their own and had to stop himself from laughing.

Ivan gave Alfred a sorta reassuring kiss on the cheek. "Not that I would stab Arthur, of course. I'm just speaking hypothetically," he said, accidentally letting amusement slip into his tone. Actually, he was a little sad that he had rambled about preferred knifes to use when stabbing someone while Arthur wasn't there. Making Alfred uncomfortable was not the same as making Arthur uncomfortable. _I'll just consider this practice._ The Russian noticed that the mother was still staring at him nervously and he gave her a childish smile. She quickly grabbed her son by the arm and all but ran away.

Ivan chuckled at the reaction and turned his attention back to Alfred. "But I'll be sure to speak up more if that's what you want, _dorogoy_," he said, giving the American a semi-normal smile.

Alfred was pretty sure that, had he not been anticipating a cheeseburger or two, his appetite was gone thanks to Ivan's rambling about knives and stabbing and such. Though at the same time, he felt a chill run up his spine, not one of fear, but one of, "oh crap, I can't believe him talking like that made me like him more." He shook his head, rubbing at his neck in an attempt to keep his masochistic side in check. Honestly, after all the crap he's gone through, being a masochist was a survival thing now, but that didn't mean he had to _enjoy_ Ivan's knife talk. That was a whole new level of "creepy" and probably one of Arthur's top ten "things I don't want to know about my little brother."

"Yeah…just, uh, avoid the knife talk, okay? Arthur's a little twitchy about that kind of stuff…and can you believe that Arty _doesn't_ like _Texas Chainsaw Massacre_?" The last question was random and tossed in as an after thought as Arthur was approaching them, balancing two trays of food and drinks like an expert waiter. Arthur gave his an annoyed look.

"Of _course_ I don't like that movie, you lout. Who in their right mind enjoys senseless violence and cannibalism? No one, that's who." Arthur retorted irritably, setting the trays down and handing out the food and drinks before finally sitting down across from the pair of college students.

Alfred bit into his burger excitedly, and Arthur stared forlornly at his rather wilted salad with bits of what might be chicken tossed haphazardly on it. He steeled his nerves and took a bite, then grimaced and took a long drink of his water to drown out the taste of aging lettuce and salty vinaigrette – why was the vinaigrette _salty_? Yes, he was certain he was _definitely _going to wind up bedridden with food poisoning.

Once he was done emptying his mouth of the aftertaste of the "salad," he laced his fingers together and inquired, looking to Ivan, "Tell me, Mr. Braginski, what are you going to college for if I might ask? And are you and Alfred getting along?" He made a waving gesture with his hand, as if batting away a fly. "I apologize if my questions seem a bit rude or prying, but as I'm Alfred's _legal_ guardian, I'd like to make sure that I don't need to dig out my old cricket bat."

Alfred blinked and asked around a mouthful of burger, "The one with the nails that you chased Francis with?"

Arthur grimaced, slowly trying to translate what Alfred said. Eventually, he figured it out, and answered, nodding. "…Oh, oh yes. That's the one." Apparently even Arthur had a violent streak in him…and not just the verbal kind, either.

Ivan smiled slightly, silently thinking that _he_ liked senseless violence and found cannibalism interesting. Not that he would try it any time soon. Not unless he was starving to death at least. Though, looking at his questionable cheeseburger, Ivan had to wonder if eating a person was more healthy than eating it. He took a slip of his drink, the only thing he trusted enough to put into his body, and gave his cheeseburger a hard look.

It looked like it had been sitting out for a while, then was just thrown into a microwave as an afterthought. Ivan made a face at it. _That's just a bit gross..._ He inconspicuously pushed the offensive cheeseburger over to Alfred, since he actually seemed to like this slop, for some reason. Ivan prayed that the American would be okay after eating here, and that he wouldn't keel over from a heart attack.

The Russian glanced up at Arthur with a slight smile on his face. _Ah? The questioning has already begun and we haven't even told him anything....A cricket bat?_ Ivan was actually a bit surprised that Arthur could get physically violent, since he didn't really look like the type. He looked more like the type to write a list of complaints if he had a problem with someone. Ivan decided that he liked Arthur much more now.

He gave the Brit a smile and shook his head. "_Nyet_, they don't seem rude at all," he said reassuringly. He put his finger to his chin in a thinking pose and he smiled childishly. Just because he had more respect for Arthur now didn't mean he was about to answer the questions like a normal person. "Let's see...My major is English, and I am considering becoming a translator when I get out of college. But I don't really know," he paused to take a slip of soda, planning how he was going to answer the other question.

Ivan smiled too innocently. "And I suppose you can say that Alfred and I get along...well. I haven't tried to suffocate him with a pillow yet, so I suppose that means we get along good enough," he said childishly. Not that he would tell them that he had actually done that to one of his old roommates. Except Ivan had only just put the pillow on his face and not tried to actually kill him. Plus, it had scared the annoying Georgian away. Waking up with a pillow over your face and a Russian starring at you with a creepy smile on his face would probably scare most people away.

"Ah, English…that was my degree as well. If you ever require any assistance, then don't hesitate to ask." Arthur smiled his first happy smile of the evening, though Alfred was pretty sure that his brother should savor his moment of happiness as Ivan could be…scary. At the mention of pillows and smothering, Arthur's smile faltered, then found its way back onto his face once he realized that, since Alfred was alive, maybe he was just imagining things when he thought Ivan was a little _too_ childish for such a large man. "Well, at least _someone's_ not out for that git's life." Arthur tried to sound joking, but it came out bitter and depressed.

Alfred scowled and mumbled something around his food, dropping an empty burger wrapper onto his tray and grabbing up his second burger. Arthur gave him a dirty look. "Good lord! Are you even chewing?" Alfred just nodded. Shaking his head, Arthur looked back at Ivan, business-like, yet pleasant once more. "Ahem. Anyway…ugh! What _is_ it, Alfred? And _swallow_ first!" Arthur gave his brother an annoyed look when Alfred kicked him from under the table.

Alfred swallowed and said happily, unable to contain himself, "Oh yeah. Ivan and I are dating. Is that cool?"

Arthur just waved him off, dismissing his words out of habit. "Yes. Whatever. Now kindly…" He paused, green eyes widening in realization of what Alfred had just said. "…What?"

"Ivan and I are dating."

He stared at the two in mute horror for several minutes, then stood and slammed his hands down on the table, making everything on it rattle. "What? No! A million times, no! What? Why? For how long?" He yelled, looking as horrified as a parent would. He blushed brightly when he realized that everyone was staring at him and slowly sunk back into his seat and said in a lower, but just as panicked, voice, "F-f-for how long? And you two haven't…" He trailed off, blush darkening.

Alfred tilted his head to the side for a moment in thought. "Haven't what?"

The Brit shook his head and turned to Ivan, a dangerous look in his eyes. "You haven't done anything to him, have you? How long have you two been dating? Mr. Braginski, I want to know every nook and cranny of who you are, what you do, who you've _dated_, and how likely my brother is to get some strange form of AIDs from you if you two have – or intend to have – intercourse." He had the edge of the table in a white-knuckle grip with obvious intent to beat Ivan if he refused to answer his questions. And chances were good that he would use the table to do so.

Ivan gave Alfred an mildly amused look. _Wow, a direct approach. Why didn't I think of that?_ The Russian had more or less been expecting Arthur's almost over-the-top reaction, and was highly amused by it until the Brit had insinuated that they had done..._that_. Then the calm and collected part of Ivan's mind shattered leaving the Russian to feel awkward, embarrassed, inadequate and worse, nervous. Pretty much all the things he _shouldn't_ be during this little "interview".

The Russian blushed slightly and wished desperately that his usual asshole self would return to get him through this. When it seemed unlikely that such a miracle would happen, Ivan gave Arthur a weak smile and shook his head. "No, no, of course not. We've been dating for...a little less than a week," he was proud of himself for not panicking so far. "Um, I'm a lot of things and I do a lot of things, so you'll have to be less vague. ...If you would please. And, um, I haven't really dated anyone else before, and it's highly unlikely that Alfred would... get anything like that... from me," he said nervously and he felt the blush on his face darken from thinking of...._that._

Ivan took a sip of his soda, hoping that he looked as relaxed on the outside as he felt nervous on the inside. He had a feeling his blush sort of gave that away though. The Russian glanced at Alfred in a silent plea that asked if the American would _kindly stop his older brother from asking questions pertaining to, holy hell, _sex_._

Alfred grabbed Arthur's shoulders to keep the man from going into a panic attack. "Arty, Arty. Caaaaalm. Deep breath." Arthur glared at him, but followed Alfred's instructions nonetheless. Once he was certain that the Brit's head wasn't going to explode, Alfred slowly removed his hands from his brother's shoulders and said gently, smiling happily. "All right. Arthur, here's how it goes." He took Ivan's hand in his and gave it a squeeze, blushing a bit. "I _really_ like Ivan. Like, _really_, really like him. Maybe even the other 'L' word that's very hard for me to say after everything that's happened." Arthur nodded numbly in response, looking at his salad and stabbing at it uselessly.

He knew it was useless to try to stop Alfred, as the American would do what he wanted no matter what he said, and Alfred did seem happy…but what if Ivan was the reason Alfred was in the hospital? What then? Could Arthur really let his little brother, one of the only people left in his family, date someone that could be dangerous to his health? "Alfred…be honest with me." He lifted his gaze, looking defeated. "Was he the reason you were in the hospital? I'm not assuming…I just…" He trailed off, unsure of himself now.

Alfred smiled again. "I can't really remember the attack, but…I know _Ivan_ didn't do it. Arty? I'm not that little kid you needed to protect. I wanted to tell you because I owe you that, right?" Arthur laughed a bit, rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. He hated seeing Alfred growing up, moving on, leaving Arthur to try and remember how to take care of himself first and foremost. Alfred bit his lip, looking to Ivan for help. He had never actually had to deal with Arthur when his brother cried, as the Brit had always been careful to hide his sadness behind a cup of tea-laced rum, a smile, or a frown.

Arthur closed his eyes tightly, swallowed hard, and took a quick drink of his water to calm himself. He lowered the cup and sighed. He sat in silence for a long while before finally opening his eyes and looking at the pair, defeated. He shifted his gaze to their hands, then Alfred's worry-filled eyes, and lastly to Ivan.

"I won't approve." Alfred opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when Arthur held up a hand to silence him. "_But_…I will if he _promises_ me…that he'll keep you safe and happy. Mr. Braginski, I need to know that he's safe with you. He's stupid, so he's always doing things that can get him hurt or killed. He needs someone that can keep him from running off into traffic to save kittens. I just…need to know that you're willing to be that someone." He tried to keep his voice level, succeeding thankfully, but the worry was still present in both his expression and tone.

Ivan gave Alfred a surprised look. _The other L word?_ Well, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what that word was, and it made Ivan feel both strangely giddy and terribly, painfully uncomfortable. The Russian wondered why the "L word" was so hard for Alfred to say, but he didn't really mind. Ivan didn't know what he'd do if the American ever said that to him. Probably have a heart attack and die or something.

The Russian narrowed his eyes slightly at Arthur when the Brit asked if it was _his_ fault. Ivan was one hundred percent positive that he would never do any serious damage to Alfred. Though...He still felt a little guilty about leaving Alfred alone. While he didn't know for sure, Ivan figured that if he had stayed with Alfred, the American would have not gotten attacked. Still, Ivan was a little peeved Arthur would think that he would do such a thing. Even if it wasn't really too crazy an idea, what with Ivan's personality and all..._Oh shit. Is he crying?_

Ivan looked at Alfred and judging by the younger male's face, yes, Arthur was crying. He shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention back to the Brit with a slightly concerned look on his face. Sometimes, Ivan really wished he was good at comforting people. _Strange, I never wanted that until I met Alfred._

Ivan gave Arthur a soft smile and nodded. "Of course, Mr. Kirkland. I vow that I'll watch out for your brother." The Russian wasn't sure if the stupid and kitten things were a joke or not, so he decided not to mention either. Ivan, still feeling as though his little vow was missing something, put his right hand over his heart and smiled. "And I promise if I cannot live up to your expectations, you can gut me or whatever punishment you see fit." Ivan hoped Arthur felt more assured by his vow, because he couldn't really think of anything else he could add that would make it more convincing. Other than maybe a ritual sacrifice _right there_ in McDonald's.

Arthur seemed to relax visibly at Ivan's promise, slumping against the seat and relaxing his grip on his fork. "T-then…erm…well, since that's been cleared up…" Arthur forced a smile. "I wish the both of you the best of luck. And trust me, Mr. Braginski." His smile turned strained. "I will do far worse things than _gut_ you if you hurt or allow harm to come to him. _Death _will be a blessing."

Alfred shuddered a bit and said loudly, hoping to stop the "War of Creepy" that was bound to happen if he didn't stop Arthur's on-coming rant on curses, "So! Since we're _all done _with the _creepy_ talk, lets just eat, right?" He promptly dug into the cheeseburger that he had, during Arthur's threatening and angsting, forgotten. Arthur refrained from touching his salad any more.

Finally, Alfred finished devouring the hazardous material that was three cheeseburgers and a super-sized fry. He grinned and slouched in his seat, patting his stomach contently. "Awesome! Thanks, but…hey, you guys didn't eat." He tilted his head to the side at the disgusted look Arthur shot him. Alfred poked at Ivan's stomach, confused. "You didn't want your burger? Why not? It was really awesome…we'll just have to get you something later, 'kay?" Alfred grin cheerfully. "Hey, thanks a lot, Arty."

"Don't thank me. Mr. Braginski paid for yours and his." Arthur said stubbornly, though, when Alfred turned to gush over how great Ivan was, he slid the money back to Ivan and smiled a bit as he mouthed, "I said I would pay, didn't I?" He cleared his throat to catch Alfred's attention and stood. "Ahem. We need to going now, Alfred…" Alfred pouted, but didn't complain, standing.

"'Kay. And I thought you were paying? Cheapskate." Alfred teased, prodding Arthur's side.

His brother scowled at him. "Oh, belt up, you half-wit! Like I'm really going to argue with a man the size of the Berlin Wall!" He motioned wildly at Ivan.

Ivan gave Alfred a slight pout. "But I don't want to be all done with the creepy talk. It's fun," he mumbled. He really would have liked to hear what exactly Arthur had in mind that would make dying the preferable choice. It would probably be something, as Alfred might say, "awesome" and Ivan was sad that he would never get to hear the end of the Brit's threat.

The Russian made a face and had to keep from insulting Alfred's favorite "food". Oh, but how he wanted to. "If that's what you want, _dorogoy_," he said simply. He raised an eyebrow at Arthur and gave a defeated sigh, but smiled and took the money anyway. Then he was apparently the Berlin Wall's human equivalent. It was official, Arthur was definitely one impressive person completely worthy of Ivan's respect.

Ivan chuckled and gave Alfred a quick kiss on the cheek. "_Eta pravda, dorogoy__2__._ Don't be so mean to him, I _was_ being quite intimidating while you weren't looking," he said cheerfully.

Alfred pouted at Ivan, adjusting his glasses. "I don't _speak _Russian, Ivan! Seriously, I'm gonna learn it, then you can't insult me in it anymore." He said as he climbed into the car, cheeks red from both the cold and Ivan's kiss. "And, uh, yeah, you can be kind of scary in that, 'Here's Johnny' kind of way." He laughed when he realized that Arthur's face was just as red as his when the Brit saw the cheek kiss, Arthur attempting to ignore just how lovey-dovey the two were, though the inner romantic was quite pleased with it. "Arty, is that inner romantic of yours gushing with joy at the cuteness that is me and Ivan?"

"You nitwit!" Arthur yelled as he climbed into the car and scowled, his ears now matching the red in his face. "I'm _not_ a romantic! And n-n-n…why would…you and Mr. Braginski…cute?" He sputtered indignantly for several moments before spouting out in a sulking tone, "Buckle up already…I'm going to be late getting to pub if we don't hurry."

Alfred gave his brother a dirty look. "Oh, Arty…don't get drunk! You know how you get when you get wasted…besides, who'll drive you home?" Alfred had, unfortunately, seen how horrible a drunk Arthur could be. It didn't help that the Brit could only hold down one drink before getting tipsy.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm _walking_ to the bloody pub. As soon as I drop you two off, I'm getting pickled…"

"…Bread and butter flavored?"

Arthur looked puzzled for a moment at Alfred's quip, then frowned. "No. Pickled! As in 'drunk!'" Alfred just snickered in response, enjoying his game of, "torment Arthur."

Ivan vaguely wondered what pub Arthur was going to and if Alfred was picking on his older brother on purpose. The Russian could say with great confidence that the answer to the latter was yes. Though he had to admit, it seemed like a fun thing to do. Ivan got into the car and buckled up, still wary of Arthur's driving. "Getting drunk Mr. Kirkland? Is there some special occasion?" He asked innocently. Though, he usually never had any special reason for why he wanted to get drunk himself, so he wouldn't think any less of the Brit if the answer was "because I want to" or something.

Arthur grumbled something to affect of, "because I bloody well can" under his breath. And then began to long and awkward – not to mention hazardous – drive back to the dorms. Once there, Arthur bluntly told Alfred to get out, then smiled and said to Ivan, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Braginski, and I do hope Alfred doesn't drive you insane…"

Alfred snorted, but didn't protest. He shoved his hands into his pockets and shivered, closing his eyes when a gust of wind almost knocked him over. It was official: bomber jackets _sucked_ in the fall. "C'mon, Ivan. Lets get inside…I know you're all nice and toasty, but I'm freezing." To prove his point, he shivered violently, teeth chattering. He _hated_ the cold.

He blinked when Arthur said from within the warmth of the car, "Alfred!" Arthur blushed a bit, embarrassed. He hated being nice to his idiot brother when people were around. To lessen the embarrassment, he looked at the steering wheel. "…Be careful from now on, all right? If not for your own sake, then for mine and Matthew's?"

Alfred stared at Arthur, then smiled softly. "All right, Art. I'll be careful." Arthur seemed pleased – albeit a little skeptical – with the answer and nodded, crossing his arms and waiting for the pair to get inside before he drove off to get plastered.

Ivan gave the Brit a slight smile and nodded. He decided not to mention to Arthur that he was considered insane by most people and probably by some law. It would probably just upset him, then he might change his mind about giving the two his blessing and Ivan honestly just didn't feel like dealing with that kind of mess any time soon.

The Russian got out and gave Alfred a curious look. Was he that cold? It wasn't very cold out. It wasn't even snowing! Ivan was about to make a crude comment, but then Arthur spoke up again and he realized that the Brit wasn't about to leave just yet. Ivan gave a quiet sigh, slightly disappointed that the chance for his comment had come and gone. _And it was such a good one too..._He grabbed the American's hand and started back towards the dorm.

Ivan idly wondered if Arthur was planning on driving around after getting pissed. Then he wondered if his driving actually improved while under the influence. He'd have to ask Alfred that later, when the Brit couldn't hear him.

Once they were inside, Alfred heaved a heavy sigh of relief now that they were inside the warmth of the dorm, kicking the door shut behind him. "W-well, that went a whole lot better than I had expected." He grinned at Ivan, glasses fogging over due to the quick change in temperature. "And you! You did awesome!" He honestly hadn't expected Arthur to take to Ivan so quickly. Yes, the Brit had threatened him, and yes, he had nearly died of a heart attack, but Arthur had liked Ivan enough to not only avoid swearing at him, but enough to remain semi-pleasant towards him.

Alfred continued to smile like an idiot as he exclaimed excitedly, "_And_ Arty _liked _you. So that's a big plus." He ignored the fact that Arthur was currently driving to a pub to get plastered because of their little lunch conversation. His smile faltered when the top half of his vision got blurry, his glasses sliding down his nose a bit due to his flailing and rapid-fire talking. _I almost forgot about these…_He adjusted his glasses with his arm, nursing his injured hand to avoid breaking the cast.

He doubted he'd ever actually get used to the fact that he couldn't be a pilot, his dreams crushed by cruel reality – and some psycho-woman with a pipe. _But I've gotta be strong. Ivan can't know this._ He reasoned quietly, tapping the floor with the toe of his sneaker. After all, a hero never dragged their friends – or boyfriends – into their messes. His smile returned full force as he exclaimed, "Hey, hey! Let's get out the vodka, watch some TV, play some video games, and get totally wasted! After dealing with funny tasting juice and Nurse Mom, I need some TLC…and vodka since that's about the only thing we have in the fridge other than soda."

He gave Ivan a pleading look, hoping to god that his puppy-eyes still worked. Though now that he had glasses, it should intensify the cute. Or that's what he hoped, anyway.

Ivan frowned slightly. He hadn't really done that awesome. He ended up getting all nervous and flustered and not even slightly intimidating to the Brit, which had not been a part of his plan. Besides, he somehow doubted that Arthur really liked him. Actually, thinking back on the events of the lunch, Ivan was pretty sure Arthur disliked him a lot. Not like he really cared too much, seeing as how the Brit wasn't going to make as big a fuss over him and Alfred dating as he had originally thought.

The Russian chuckled slightly at Alfred's plan. "Are we going to do it all in that order?" He mumbled to himself. Really, television and video games were all good and fine but Ivan, when being totally honest, wasn't overly fond of Alfred's taste in games and movies. Unless there was an interesting story behind all the random explosions and shooting, of course. But lately, all movies and video games seemed to bleed together and be pretty much the same. If you've done one, it's like doing another. Though, Ivan did enjoy the vodka part of Alfred's plan. Not so much the wasted part.

The Russian stared blankly at Alfred's attempts to look all pleading and whatnot. Ivan had to admit, the glasses did add a little something to the look. Not that he really cared, he wasn't going to agree just because of a pretty face. He just wanted to drink. _Really_. "Alright, fine. Just remember it's your fault if I get drunk and drive you out of the room," he said, sounding amused by the prospect, which he totally was. The Russian opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles of vodka. He handled one of them to Alfred and gave a creepy smile. "You had best be prepared for the worst, _dorogoy_."

Alfred grinned wickedly, accepting the offered bottle and plopping down onto his bed. He held the bottle against his chest with his arm, twisting the cap off with his good hand. He then held the bottle up in a toast, blue eyes glittering with excitement and determination. "Heheh…you're not chasin' me away this time. But I am gonna be drinking you under the table." He said teasingly, taking a gulp of his drink while retaining eye contact with Ivan.

It was a mistake for Ivan to phrase it like a challenge, as Alfred F. Jones wouldn't – no, _couldn't_ – back down from a challenge. Alfred lowered the bottle, and smiled at Ivan from over the lip of the bottle, issuing his own silent challenge to Ivan. "Bet you that you get smashed before I do." He teased.

Ivan's creepy smile turned even more scary and he gracelessly sat down on his own bed. "Ha, you are so funny _dorogoy_. There is simply no way _you_ can drink _me_ under the table," he said smugly. He opened his vodka and took a swig. "You're on. But if this is a bet, then what do I get when I win?" Ivan asked, sounding amused. He was pretty sure he had an advantage or two over Alfred. One being that he was Russian and vodka was known as "Russian water", though that wasn't technically an advantage. The other was that he drank vodka as a hobby, which was an advantage.

Ivan took another swig and smirked at the American. "I do hope that I get a good prize for winning. If it's something stupid, I may have to throw a vodka bottle at Alfred," he said, sounding more like he was talking to himself though he made sure Alfred could hear him perfectly.

"Heh…you haven't seen me drink, have you? Trust me, Ivan, you're gonna be sorry when I beat you." Alfred's grin faded as he scrunched up his face in thought.

What _did_ Ivan get if he won? He could always go with something vague like, "I'll do one thing for you" or "I'll be your bitch for a week" but those could turn into unpleasant and scary things. After all, what if Ivan decided he wanted to shove him in a dress or something? He highly doubted he'd look very good in one, but that didn't make the chances of Ivan putting him in a dress any less likely. He half shrugged, taking a long drink in hopes of getting rid of the mental image of himself in a dress.

"If you win, I'll…um…" He pondered some more. "Hm." He smiled brightly and said, as if it were the smartest thing in the world despite the fact that he had just listed a reason why this prize was a bad idea, "If you win, I'll do whatever you want for a week. No complaints, and no questions asked. Unless, of course, you stick me in a dress. Then I'll complain, whine, question your sanity, and refuse to put it on because I draw the line at girly clothing and make-up." He fired his words off at the rate of a machine gun, and once he was done, he inhaled a deep breath of much needed oxygen.

He smiled sweetly. "How's that? But if I win…I already know what I want." He motioned to Ivan with his vodka bottle. "I wanna know more about you. Where you come from, your family, your likes, dislikes…I mean, it's normal, right? To wanna get to know the guy you're dating?" He blushed a bit, taking a sip of his drink. It was embarrassing to say something like that, but it was already out there, and seeing as he had yet to figure out how to work the cosmic "reset" button, he was left feeling awkward and very girl-ish.

Ivan smiled, slightly confused about the dress thing. He wouldn't put Alfred in a dress unless he wanted to embarrass him and tear his pride into tiny pieces while scattering them in the wind- oh wait, Ivan would probably do that for fun. The 'no dress' rule was no longer strange at all. But other than losing the chance to embarrass Alfred via dresses, the rest sounding quite amazing. Ivan wasn't quite sure what he'd do if (when) he won. Probably make Alfred dress in something that's not a dress. Like footsie pajamas or something. Hell, he might even figure out something_ else_ to do with the power to completely boss Alfred around.

The Russian took a swig of vodka and nearly choked when he heard what Alfred wanted if he won. He stared at the American with wide eyes. Of course it was a touching request that not only didn't have any strings attached, but it also made a ton of sense. But Ivan could honestly say that he would rather go around wearing only his scarf, ice states, and a thong in the middle of a Siberian winter than let Alfred know about _certain things_ about his past. There were some things that should never be brought up. Ever.

But if Ivan went against the idea Alfred came up with, then that would probably seem odd. And it might hurt Alfred's feelings or something. And besides, what were the chances that Alfred would beat Ivan in a drinking contest? The Russian smiled slightly and nodded. "Of course it's normal,_ dorogoy_. I'll take you up on your bet," he said happily. He took another swig of vodka and stared at the ground, suddenly realizing something. "Hey Alfred? Why didn't you just make the conditions to our bet the same? Like, if you did happen to win, why not win the same thing I would win? You'd still be able to ask me about me and you could boss me around and all. Too late for that though, a deal is a deal," he said quickly, not too keen to give Alfred any plans to change the bet.

Alfred shrugged, taking a drink. "'Cause I don't have any interest in bossing you around." He said plainly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "What kind of hero would I be if I made someone do stuff for me that I can't do for myself? Other than take on ghosts. That's totally your thing." He gave Ivan his award-winning smile and leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees. The tension from his stay at the hospital and the awkward – and loud – lunch with Arthur seemed to have left him, his posture more relaxed and less stiff than it had been earlier despite his attempts to remain calm.

He had been a little surprised on how surprised Ivan had looked at his request for a prize, but let it slide, deciding that maybe the Russian was just unnerved at having to spill _everything_ (Alfred was honestly hoping that Ivan had at least _some_ dating experience seeing as he had none). Hoping to quell whatever worries Ivan was having despite his words and the attempt to brush it off, he said cheerfully, "But…if there's stuff you'd like to keep secret then…that's okay. Everyone's got secrets. Not me, of course. Nope, I'm a totally open and heroic book." He let his smile become gentle. He understood the urge to keep parts of his life a secret, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't say them if Ivan asked. He was honest, and straightforward, even about the bad things if people asked the right questions. And he trusted Ivan to trust _him _with his secrets. Heck, he trusted Ivan enough to cry in front of the guy. Sadly though, part of him knew that no matter what he did, how close they got, or which dark part of himself he shared with his boyfriend, he'd always be left partially in the dark.

_Stupid Ivan and his wall of insane creepiness and all those other good things about him that I like…_ He thought bitterly, mildly irritated with himself that he even enjoyed Ivan's creepiness. _Maybe I am an adrenaline junkie. I guess everyone's got their vice. Mine could just get me killed._

To take his mind off of this annoying revelation, he turned hi attention to the one thing he never saw Ivan without. He eyed the scarf Ivan was _still_ wearing and shifted so that he was sitting with his legs crossed under him. "…Why're you still wearing that thing, anyway? It's like eighty degrees in here. Aren't you melting?" He took a swig of his vodka, pleased that he wasn't even feeling the affects yet. He, of course, forgot that he was still in his bomber jacket.

Ivan smiled in relief and hid it by taking a swig of vodka. Now he wouldn't have to worry about upsetting Alfred by not telling him about anything. The American had said it was okay, after all. But...Ivan felt that Alfred would still be unhappy if he never told him about _anything_. The Russian decided that it would be okay if he told his boyfriend a little about him. Just not _everything._

Ivan took another drink and noticed that his bottle was almost empty. _When did that happen?_ It took him a moment to understand what Alfred was talking about, but when he realized that the American was talking about his scarf, he suddenly felt a little defensive. "What's wrong with my scarf? You're wearing that bomber jacket, aren't _you_ melting?" He asked with slight annoyance. He frowned at his vodka, realizing that snapped at Alfred.

"Sorry," he mumbled and quickly finished off his vodka. He stared at the empty bottle before dropping it on the ground. He'd pick that up later...sometime...Ivan went to the fridge and got out another bottle of vodka. He was a little worried that he was drinking faster than Alfred, thus he had more of a chance of getting wasted first, but that was okay. He was confident in his drinking abilities. He sat back down on his bed and took a swig of vodka, careful to drink it a bit slower.

The Russian glanced at his scarf, then to Alfred, then back to his scarf. "...You know, I wear this scarf all the time," he said, touching it. His gaze turned dreamy, remembering the good memories that his scarf brought him. "My older sister made it for me when I was very young. It was a Christmas-birthday present, since my birthday is so close to Christmas and all," he said softly. Ivan blushed slightly, realizing that he had gotten all sentimental.

In an effort to not look like a total sap, he turned his attention to the American and gave him a scary smile. "Plus, I used this to kill my first man. What a glorious day that was," he said, his tone childish and slightly amused. Of course, Ivan hadn't ever really _killed_ anyone, but he could be pretty convincing at times.

Alfred winced when Ivan snapped at him, doing his best not to hug his jacket closer defensively, as if hoping that the thick and old material would protect him from an onslaught of Russian rage. He relaxed a bit at the apology, and smiled weakly to show that Ivan was forgiven. He finished off his own bottle in two gulps, then hurried to grab a second. There was no way Ivan was going to out-drink him! "'Sokay. No need to apologize." He said cheerfully, grabbing a second bottle from the fridge. He paused, gapping at the sheer number of vodka bottles in the mini-fridge.

He was snapped from his thoughts when Ivan began talking about his scarf. He listened carefully, nudging the fridge door shut with his foot and returning to his bed. He smiled softly. _I guess even Ivan has some soft spots. Wait…his birthday's near Christmas?_ He didn't get a chance to inquire on Ivan's birthday though, as the Russian went on another one of his "scare the hell out of Alfred and laugh."

Alfred laughed nervously, ignoring his desire to throw his empty bottle – also lying on the floor along with Ivan's – at his psychotic boyfriend. Instead, he did his best to change the subject onto something a little less scary. "Oookay, Ivan! I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that for the sake of being able to _sleep_ tonight!" He laughed again, though it was obvious that he was still wary of Ivan, especially after the "killing" comment.

He held up his arm, showing off his jacket, the star over his heart faded from age and wear. "This jacket…" His eyes lowered to the floor as a strained smile crossed his face. "Was my old man's." He rubbed at a dark stain on the cuff of the left sleeve. "He gave it to me when I was six…he told me all sorts of war stories about it, about how his dad wore it when he went off to battle in World War II, and how he wore it when he was part of the air force. Of course, this was about the only thing he ever gave me other than a severe beating for…" He cut himself off, banging his broken hand against the desk beside him to give him an excuse to not finish his sentence.

He, with some difficulty due to his broken hand, unscrewed the lid to his newest bottle and took a long gulp, stopping only when he needed air. He wiped at his lip, then continued, his strained smile fading as he quickly added, "I guess this old jacket's seen it's last military days, huh? But, whatever."

He forced his smile back into place, trying to look on the bright side despite the fact that all he wanted to do was curl up and cry. "I'll just become a cop! Yeah, that sounds awesome! Or maybe FBI! Then I can be like that guy from the _X-Files_ and chase down aliens!" Alfred inwardly swore at him. Maybe the vodka was stronger than he thought, especially if he had blurted out the one time his father had raised a hand to him.

Ivan frowned while Alfred talked about his jacket. He wanted very much to know why Alfred's father would give him a "severe beating", but it seemed as though the American didn't want to talk about that, if the random desk-hitting was any hint. Ivan looked at his bottle of vodka in thought. He personally was all for corporal punishment. If he ever had a child (which he seriously doubted that would ever happen but speaking figuratively), he would physically punish them if they did something wrong. That's how he was taught, and it worked if done correctly, but he still was a bit bothered that Alfred had gotten a "severe beating". That just didn't seem right.

The Russian raised a confused eyebrow at his boyfriend. _What does he mean that it's seen the last of its military days? Isn't he planning to go into the military?_ Ivan was quite sure that's what Alfred had told him, that he'd go into the military and all. Why would he suddenly what to become a cop or an FBI agent? It just didn't make sense to him. "What do you mean Alfred? Weren't you planning on going into the military?" Ivan asked curiously and took a swig of vodka.

Alfred smiled a bit. "Yeah…I was, but all I really wanted to do was fly. Be free. You know, all, 'the sky's my home.'" He took a small sip of the vodka, grimacing a bit when he realized that he was starting to feel the effects of the alcoholic beverage already. He, officially, blamed the vodka for his off-the-wall chattering. He idly wondered how it was that Ivan could handle drinking so much, but shrugged it off, continuing to speak. "And since I can't do that…besides. I realized something when Arty came to give me my glasses." He grinned. "I can't protect the ones I care about if I'm overseas getting shot at. But I can here. And…I can keep you safe too." He blushed brightly, looking at the floor.

A quiet laugh escaped him as he exclaimed, "Damn, looks like you might win this one. And you're even running on an empty stomach, too!" Alfred kicked at the floor idly. "…Hey…Ivan?" He blushed brighter, this time from embarrassment and shame. "…I'm actually a little scared. About joining the military, I mean. Well, not joining exactly but the whole, 'possibly coming home in a body bag' thing."

He hated admitting this, as he was supposed to be a hero, someone who wasn't afraid of anything (except ghosts of course). But to admit to Ivan that he was afraid to die now that he's had a taste of a near death experience…it was just pathetic to him. Especially since before the attack he hadn't feared death in the slightest.

Ivan gave the American a sad frown and sighed. He stood up, got in front of the blond, then got down on his knees. He looked up at Alfred and gave a weak smile. "...A lot of people are scared of that Alfred," he said softly. To be truthful, even Ivan was a bit scared of death and those he cared for dying, but he had a cheap way of never concerning himself with it. Namely, already deciding that it would eventually happen and there was no way to stop it. It was completely out of his control. It probably wasn't the best way to go about dealing with such depressing things, but it worked for Ivan.

The Russian took Alfred's free hand and gave it a kiss. "So...it's okay to be afraid, but...it's not okay to let that fear rule your life," he said, slightly annoyed at how sappy he sounded. He looked up at the American and smiled slightly. "So, stop being so serious and be your normal stupid and optimistic self. I only like seeing you afraid if I'm the one causing it." Ivan leaned up and gave Alfred a kiss on the lips. It made an uncomfortable feeling form in Ivan's chest, so he subtly put more distance between himself and Alfred after he pulled away.

He took another swig of vodka, not liking how serious the mood had gotten. Alfred shouldn't be serious. Ivan, deciding to try and lift the mood (that the influence of alcohol had caused, no doubt), smirked at the American. "And what do you mean by keep me safe, _meelaya__3_? If anything, I have to keep you safe. Safety lesson for today: if a stranger asks you to get into their car to look for their lost puppy, don't do it. Go straight to an adult you know and tell them what happened," he said, sounding slightly amused.

Alfred quirked a lop-sided smile at Ivan's attempt to cheer him up, blushing at the strangely light and tender kiss. He leaned into it and made a whine of protest when the kiss was broken, pouting at Ivan. After a second more of sulking, he grinned like his usual idiotic self. "Heh…somehow I'm offended by that." He said softly, reaching out to grab at Ivan when he realized that the Russian was distancing himself. He set his own vodka bottle down on the desk beside him, deciding to take a short break from the alcohol before he wound up dropping it or something.

He chuckled. "But, I'll remember to avoid strangers with cars. But what do I do if I run into a stranger with candy?" He teased, dropping down to sit on the floor in front of Ivan, legs still crossed, and smiled cheerfully despite the fact that he had, blatantly, invaded the Russian's personal space. "Hey." He blinked up at Ivan curiously.

_I wanna know why he moved away. Am I that bad a kisser or something? Do I smell? Okay, Al! Just go for it! Ask him!_

"Think you could teach me some Russian tomorrow?" He reached up and retrieved his vodka, scooting closer to Ivan to give his roommate little room for escape. _Okay, that's _not_ what I wanted to say._ Without thinking any more about what should and shouldn't come out of his mouth as his brain seemed to have very little to do with that anymore, he moved so he was beside Ivan, leaning his back against his boyfriend's shoulder. "And, uh, thanks. For cheering me up. But I'm still pissed that you called me stupid _and_ a child." He grinned at Ivan, obviously not too upset about it, then resumed drinking his worries – and intelligence – away.

Ivan chuckled and took a sip of vodka. "If a stranger has candy, just tell them to throw it to you instead of getting too close to them," he replied, slightly amused, but the uncomfortable feeling was still there. _Did he just get closer to me? No, I must be imagining it. Just me overreacting..._The Russian took another sip of vodka and gave Alfred a surprised look. No one had ever asked him to teach Russian before, so it made Ivan a little happy. "Of course I can. But we should probably start at the basics, I think," he said, nervously licking his lips. Ivan couldn't deny it this time, Alfred _was_ getting closer to him.

The Russian gave Alfred a wary look, but resisted the urge to move away. It did feel kind of nice to have the American leaning against him. Besides, it was Alfred being all affectionate and stuff, not that _other_ person. Ivan shuttered slightly at the thought. "Any time. But I can't help it if what I say is the truth. Although, I suppose you're only a child mentally," he murmured, taking a swig of vodka. Ivan noted that the edges of his vision were getting slightly fuzzy, but that was okay. He could still think pretty coherently...enough.

Ivan ran a hand through his hair and glanced at Alfred. "Wow, you sure have lasted longer than I thought you would," he said mostly to himself. He went to take a sip of vodka and noticed that it had all mysteriously vanished. He frowned slightly before he smiled. _Yes, a perfect excuse to get away._ He stood up and got another bottle before sitting back on the floor, careful to put some distance between the two of them.

It wasn't that he didn't like being close to his boyfriend. Actually, he quite enjoyed it. But sometimes...certain things reminded him of other certain things. And, in his slightly intoxicated state, Ivan vividly remembered those other certain things much easier than if he was sober. He seriously didn't want to have a flashback, and especially not with Alfred around.

Alfred smiled happily at the idea of learning a bit of Russian. Maybe that would keep Ivan from insulting him or something, though he doubted the Russian would teach him insults. God only knew what Alfred would spout out if he got angry. "You're never too old for immaturity." He said in a sage-like tone, nodding to himself.

A yelp passed his lips when Ivan abruptly got up, Alfred almost falling over at the loss of his back support. He caught himself on his elbow, careful not to spill any vodka, though it was a difficult task considering he was pretty sure he would only last a couple more sips before he became a giggling mess. "Of course I've lasted this long…" He muttered, sitting up. "I can out-drink Gilbert _and_ Ludwig." The last part was said proudly.

A hurt look crossed his face when he realized that, once more, Ivan was distancing himself. This time, though, he didn't move closer, just hugged his knees to his chest and cradled the vodka bottle as if it were the last thing he owned in the whole world. He bit his lip, wanting to ask what was wrong, but thankfully some common sense had lingered in his alcohol-buzzed brain. _Better not push him. I don't feel like sleeping in the hallway again._

Slowly, he set the bottle down and said with a light laugh, "Guess you win. If I drink any more, I'll have the hangover from Hell tomorrow." He cast one more worried and depressed look at Ivan from the corner of his eye before standing and wobbling unsteadily.

"Whoops." Was all he said when he toppled over, landing on Ivan's bed with a huff. For a moment, he didn't move, just laid there, eyes heavy. Finally, he decided that a bed was a bed, and curled up on his side, not even bothering to remove his jacket or glasses as his lack of restful sleep for the past three days finally caught up to him. Within seconds, he was soundlessly asleep.

Ivan sighed and stared at the ground as if it had offended him. While he wasn't entirely sure, he thought that maybe he hurt Alfred's feelings. _God, I'm such an idiot._ The Russian smacked his head and muttered curses at his vodka, mostly because it had partially helped in making the problem. After feeling as though his poor vodka could take it no more, Ivan stood up and put the remainder of his and Alfred's vodka in the fridge. There was no point in wasting it, after all.

Ivan glanced at the American in his bed and snorted softly. He didn't mind sleeping on his boyfriend's bed, but he sorta hoped Alfred wouldn't make it a habit of sleeping in his bed. He shuffled over to the chest of drawers in their room and looked for some clothes to sleep in. After choosing some clothes that might as well have been made for walking around in the Siberian winter and putting them on, Ivan moved over to Alfred and sighed.

He hesitated before giving the American a kiss goodnight. He took the blonde's glasses off and put them on the desk while shaking his head. _How are these glasses going to survive, I wonder..._He chuckled slightly before he went over to Alfred's bed and gracelessly flopped down on it. After staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, Ivan felt himself start to doze off.

1 "Hello, my dear. How are you?"

2 It's true, dear

3 Sweetheart


End file.
